Bloodstained Tears
by iim asia
Summary: What would Harry Potter have been like if he was a she? What if she was also the object of affection for a certain blond haired Slytherin? What if the Dursleys not only kept her in a cupboard, but also beat her too? Gets longer after preface.Adult themes.
1. Preface

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal. Vernon Dursley went to work everyday, Petunia Dursley stayed home and cleaned impulsively like a good wife should, and little Dudley Dursley ate like a growing boy is supposed to, or maybe more then he was supposed to though Petunia and Vernon would never admit to that. Petunia's freak of a sister, Lily Potter, her husband James and daughter Bree, were not spoken about in or around the household. There was always the occasional sighting of a strange snowy owl with something tied to its leg near the Dursley's home, but no one in the neighborhood would ever speak of that in front of a member of the family. The Potter family was the Dursley's dirty little secret, hidden in the back of their closets, just waiting to jump out and surprise everyone.

In fact, their well-hidden secret was about to do just that. About to leap out of the closet and tear down reputations, create horrible screams to come from the house and do so much more then those two little things. It all starts with a tabby cat with strange markings around its eyes, a flying motorcycle with a giant of a man atop it, a strange man in a purple cloak that could turn off the street lamps with what looked like a lighter, and an orphaned baby girl with a tuft of bright red hair, almond shaped, brown eyes (like her father) and a mysterious lightning bolt scar on her forehead.

**A/N: I know that this preface is crap but the next chapters get loads better and longer. Read and review please.**


	2. Chapter 1

"BREEEEEEE!" The shrill, long call of Aunt Petunia came from somewhere in the kitchen. 

"_BREEEEE!_" She sounded closer now, and just as Bree opened her eyes the cupboard door opened, brutally exposing the early morning daylight to her unfocused eyes.

"Urgh" she moaned and rolled over in the small pile of ragged blankets and towels she had been sleeping in.

"UP! Get up now."

"Go away." Bree whispered.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Her aunt exclaimed outraged.

"I said, GO AWAY!" When she screamed go away her aunt went flying across the hallway into the opposite wall. Bree knew what was coming next. She shrunk back into the darkness of her cupboard as her aunt got up, recovering from the shock of flying unexpectedly against a wall.

"VERNON! SHE'S GONE AND DONE IT AGAIN!" Petunia screeched. Soon a loud thump, thump, thump, like that of a small elephant stampeding down the stairs. When he reached his wife he looked at Bree with such menace that she could tell it was going to be one of the worser beatings she had received while making things spontaneously happen. She couldn't control it. It was like some kind of...magic. But magic wasn't real? Was it? Bree had always had a lurking feeling that there was a reason all these strange things happened to her. She just wasn't quite sure what yet. But she wanted to find out.

* * *

When her uncle was done with her Bree was allowed to stay in her cupboard for a few hours. She was shaking from the force of which she had been beaten. She hadn't even put up a fight this time. Maybe he thought she had. She went to the back of the cupboard where there was a loose floorboard, with her little secret hidden beneath. Once she was sure no one was hanging around her door anymore she pulled out a razor blade and rolled up her sleeve, exposing cuts from many years of abuse. Some where only days to weeks old. While others were years.

She still remembered clearly the first beating she had ever received. It wasn't anything she had done purposefully. There were some kids on the playground in fourth grade chasing her, trying to shove her in a trash can. When they caught up to her she suddenly had found herself on the school roof. After that day she was usually beaten reguarly whenever something strange -abnormal- happened she was beat for it, no matter how many times she said she didn't mean to. It seemed like the older Bree got, the more often weird things happened around her. Just last week she had accidentely set a boa constrictor loose in a zoo on Dudley's birthday. She had even talked to it! There had to be an answer to all these mysterious things. She was going to find out soon enough.

**A/N: It's coming along, next chapter coming soon! And srry its so short, I'm working on getting them longer. Read and review.**


	3. Chapter 2

**(ONE WEEK LATER)**

"Girl! Go get the mail. I'm expecting a letter from Marge today and I need to see it immediately."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

As Dudley came down the stairs he boasted about his birthday. Bree had never had a birthday party as long as she could remember. Apparently her parents had died in a horrible car-crash on Halloween when she was just 1, leaving Bree in the care of her mother's sister Aunt Petunia and her abusive husband Uncle Vernon. If only her parents hadn't died. And why, Bree frequently wondered, wasn't she dead as well. They said she was in the same car on the same night with her parents. Yet all she had was a mysterious lightning bolt scar.

"Mother, Father, Slave." Dudley had frequently took to not calling Bree by her name, but instead calling her Slave. His father was oh-so proud of his future abusive, rather porky son. "As you all know today is _my_ birthday, and _my_ birthday party. So I expect to be obeyed today, and for all my wishes to be fufilled."

"Oh. My little Dudders is growing up so fast! It seems like just . . ." Aunt Petunia trailed off, her husband interrupting with a shrill yell for Bree to stop 'lolly-gagging' and get the mail. Evidently Bree's swollen aunt's letter was of _much_ importance today. Although she couldn't imagine why.

As Bree walked back in the house carrying the mail, she found Dudley counting his gifts. 39 in all. But she wasn't even remotely interested in Dudley's fanatics today. Oh no. Bree had found something much, _much_ more interesting then she ever thought possible. There was a letter in the mail today. And not just any-old letter, but a letter addressed to her. At first she though it might have been some mistake. A letter meant for another Bree Potter. But the sender of this letter had made sure there could be no mistaking the recipient of this letter. It was addressed to the Bree Potter who lived in Number Four, Privet Drive. The Cupboard Under The Stairs. How many Bree Potter's lived under the stairs? Bree guessed not too many.

Uncle Vernon took the mail, still looking at Dudley, paying no attention to the 11 year old girl who had no family at all, holding the first letter ever addressed to her in her hands. She didn't have any friends, so she couldn't imagine who had sent it.

Finally, just as Bree had finished contemplating her letter and had started opening it's mysterious seal, Dudley took notive of her letter. "Daddy! Mum! She's stealing our mail! GET IT! GET HER!!"

"NO! It's not your's! It's mine! Look! It's address to: Bree Potter, Number Four Privet Drive, THE CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS! I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure only you are abusive enough to make someone live in a cupboard!"

Uncle Vernon's big vein in his head looked about ready to explode as he snatched the letter from Bree's clutch and pushed her away from the table with the blunt force of an extremely large, bald gorilla. "THIS IS A MISTAKE! You have no friends. We are you're only family. This letter is not meant for you. Now go to you're cupboard. And Dudley, leave the room and get ready for the zoo." When Dudley began to protest Uncle Vernon screamed at his son for the first time since Bree had lived here. "LEAVE NOW DUDLEY! IT MAY BE YOU'RE BIRTHDAY BUT I AM STILL THE BOSS OF THIS HOUSE AND WHAT I SAY GOES! NOW GET OUT! THE BOTH OF YOU! AND SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND YOU!"

Dudley and Bree hurried from the room, quickly shutting the door behind them. Although they both did not go to their 'rooms.' Instead had a heated, whispered argument about Bree's letter in the hall. When they heard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon doing the same in the kitchen they hurried to the door to try to eaves-drop on their conversation.

". . . had the same letter when she turned 11 too. I don't know why we didn't see this coming though. They were the same. A human witch and a regular wizard having a child. She was doomed to this fate."

Bree listened closer now. She had no idea what they were talking about but it involved her and . . . magic? She saw Dudley's little piggy eyes widen in surprise at this news as well. He looked down at her with a new fear in his eyes. "I don't give a damn if it's fate or not. She will not be going to this . . . this 'Hogwarts' magic school cock-and-bull. We can stomp the magic out of her if we must. But even if she is, indeed, a witch, she _will not_ be trained in her magic. My God Petunia! Just look at what happened when she got mad at you! You were THROWN across the hall. Is that what you want? To have her learn to throw harder? Control her outbursts of MAGIC to whenever she sees fit? Because I certainly do NOT want that. No sir I will not have it. Not now, not ever. We will burn this letter, and if others come, we will burn them as-well. Come on, we've got to take Dudders to the zoo with all his little friends. I will quickly burn this and you can lock her in the cupboard until we get back home. After i burn this I'll get Dudley and all his little friends he wants to bring along . . ." Bree and Dudley quickly scattered to their rooms, or cupboards in Bree's case as they heard footsteps begin and the argument come to an end with Aunt Petunia saying something along the lines of, "Very persistant." And, "Don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

As the Dursleys pulled away Bree mauled over what she had just found out today. She found out she was magic, she was invited to go to a magic school, and that Uncle Vernon would go to the end of the world to stop her from being magical. She doubted that he wouldn't go as far as killing her if that's what it took. And for one day in almost 5 years, Bree didn't take out her blade. Didn't put the cool metal to her skin and slice it open. Although she DID scratch off a few scabs. Well, you know what they, whoever 'they' are say, "Old habits are hard to break."

**A/N: Sorry for the SUPER-LONG delay in chapters. Although I'm pretty sure like 3 people have even read it all the way. Hopefully this one is longer, and more action-packed. I'll write faster from now on, because 1. I'm no longer grounded and 2. I have more time on my hands since it's summer. So lemme know how this is. And give me some tips on what you want to see in future chapters. Thanks. (:**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Haha I'm such a bad author. I promise a longer, more action packed chapter and more chapters quicker and then I dont update for like . . . ever. I've got an excuse though! I started another Harry Potter fanfiction and it's kind of my fave. It's the Dear Diary one. You should totally read it if you like this one. But anyways, enough of my ramblings and onto the long-awaited chapter! (OH RIGHT! I might get some aspects wrong and let m know if I do. This chapter is centered around Bree's birthday but I can't quite remember how far apart Bree's and Dudley's are.)**

**(ALMOST ONE WEEK AFTER THE FIRST LETTER!)**

Bree awoke this morning to the sound of three people rushing up and down the stairs and the car doors slamming. She opened the cupboard door as the last remnants of her dream slipped away. It had been about a flying motorcycle again. Bree didn't dare mention any strange dreams to her uncle ever again, as the last time she told him about her dream with the flying motorcycle Uncle Vernon nearly crashed the car. As Bree sat up she noticed that she was still sore from her beating after the zoo. Much to Dudley's displeasure Uncle Vernon was forced to come back and bring her along. While at the zoo Bree accidentely had a conversation with a Burmese Python and made the glass disappear. As she went to emmerge her aunt noticed she was awake.

"Oh good you're awake! Hurry! Grab your belongings and lets go!" And with that Aunt Petunia hurried to the car, Dudley in tow. When Uncle Vernon came down the stairs he quickly threw a bag at her and told her to be in the car in five minutes or she would be left behind.

Bree silently wondered where they were going as she walked towards the hall. As she passed the living room she got her answer. There were literally millions of letters addressed to her littering the living room. There was scarcely a spot in the place that didn't have a letter on it. You could hardly see Aunt Petunia's newly shampooed carpets through the mess. As Bree started foward to read one of these mysterious letters, Uncle Vernon honked the horn and she hurried through the rest of the house and hopped in the car.

All day they drove. At random intervals Uncle Vernon would stop the car, get out, look around and come back to the car shaking his head. Once he had stopped at a small store and bought some chips and other snacks, and a strangely shaped, badly wrapped package that no one seemed to know what it was apart from himself. It didn't appear as if Aunt Petunia or Dudley knew where they were headed any more then Bree. Around 2:00pm it started to pour, but still Uncle Vernon kept at the rediculous schedule. Dudley would start complaining at thirty minute intervals about what television show he was now missing thanks to this hopeless crusade. As it became darker it seemed that Uncle Vernon suddenly became pleased with himself for finding something that looked to be a small, rocky island with a little shack in the middle of the rough sea. There was a boat rental store about a mile down the road and Uncle Vernon hurridely paid a man to take them to the little shack. He came back to the car and helped everyone, except Bree, load their belongings onto the little row boat. Now Aunt Petunia looked positively frightened by her husband's behavior and thought to speak up about it finally.

"Vernon?" When she got no response she tried again. "Vernon dear? What is the meaning of this? You can't possibly expect us to SLEEP in that shack . . . can you?"

He looked as though he could and he replied, "The meaning of this, Petunia darling, is so those _freaks_ can no longer find us. So they will no longer invade the privacy of our family and they won't be able to send anymore of those blasted letters.

"Vernon, dear, I don't think it works that way. I'm pretty sure . . ." She trailed off as they reached the island and paid the man who had taken them out there for his services. The shack looked even worse up close, and upon further inspection it proved to have several holes in the thatched roof. As it got later Bree realized it would be her birthday at midnight tonight and as she wasn't tired decided to stay up for it. She wouldn't be able to add onto her make-shift birthday cake in the cupboard so settled for drawing one in the dust on the floor where she was meant to sleep. As it neared midnight Dudley started snoring loudly from his position on the moth-eaten sofa near the fireplace. Bree's anticipation grew as she watched Dudley's watch tick down the minutes until she would be eleven. Five minutes . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. Bree smiled and blew her dust-cake across the room as Dudley's watch showed midnight. At the same moment there was a loud, booming knock that echoed around the shack coming from the door. Bree got up at the third knock and hid behind a corner while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon came running down the stairs, Uncle Vernon wielding his newly-bought gun. Bree didn't have time to think what he could do to her with a gun because as they reached the last step the intruder's final knock sent the door flying from it's hinges. The man that stepped through was wearing a huge, shabby looking moleskin coat and had to duck down to enter the shack.

The new man took three steps into the place, picked up the door and carefully placed it into it's respective place. He turned back towards Uncle Vernon, who was shaking so badly Bree doubted he would get a clean shot with that gun even if he tried shooting it. The man smiled apologetically and said, "Sorry 'bout that. It's me bad. Shouldn' 'a been knockin' so hard."

Uncle Vernon looked outraged that this man, who resembled a kindly giant, had apologized and pointed the shaking shotgun at his chest, "YOU SIR! ARE BREAKING AND ENTERING!"

The giant smiled at Uncle Vernon and, without a word, bent the shotgun's barrel upwards towards the ceiling of the place and turned to look at Dudley. "You mus' be Bree's cousin. Would 'ja mind pointin' me in 'er direction?" Dudley pointed a shaking finger towards the corner where Bree still stood hiding. As Dudley did this Bree decided it would be best to just step out and see what this strange giant of a man wanted with her.

"I . . . I . . . I'm Bree. Bree Potter. At the risk of sounding rude, how did you find me and what do you want?"

The man smiled at Bree and held out his hand. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid. Gamekeeper at the Hogwart's school of Witchcraft an' Wizardry. I was sen' here tuh come an' get yuh."

Bree took Hagrid's hand and shook it timidly. Then she realized exactly what he had said. "Witchcraft and Wizardry? So that means . . ."

Hagrid leaned in towards Bree and said, "You're a witch, Bree. And a thumpin' good 'un once we get ya trained up a bit." Bree smiled. She had always known these was a reason for the things she did. And this man, this Hagrid, had just told her just what it was.

As Bree went to reply Uncle Vernon spoke up in a shaking, yet still loud voice. "I won't have it! Not in my house. We'll beat the witch right out of her. She will not be attending this . . . this _freak_ school."

Bree looked towards Uncle Vernon and yelled, "_Shut up! _Shut up! This isn't your message to receive! This is my life, not yours! And if I have a chance to get away from you then believe you, me, I will leave."

"This is not up to you! If you want a place to live you will not be going! I refuse to have it in my house."

Hagrid turned towards Uncle Vernon who now decided against speaking up and coward against the wall. "I don' believe tha's yur descion ter make Mr. Dursley." He turned back to Bree and addressed her again, "Would you like tur go tur Hogwarts? Or do yuh wanna stay with this lot 'o muggles for tha' rest 'o yur life?"

"I would like to go to your school, Hagrid." She replied without any hesitation.

Hagrid turned and now addressed everyone in the shack, "Right, so tha' settles it then. We'll be goin' in tha' mornin'." He looked at Dudley and yelled, "Move it yeh great porker."

As Bree sat down next to Hagrid he searched his enormous coat for something. He extracted several gold, bronze and silver coins, quite a few white mice, and finally, a peculiar looking, slightly squished, pink package which had Bree's name on it. He presented it to her and apologized, saying her had squashed it a bit on his way over here.

Bree, who had never gotten anything on her birthday before other then some old socks and clothes of Dudley's and Aunt Petunia's stared at the box in surprise and felt a sudden surge of immense caring for the giant Hagrid and ripped open the box. Inside was a small cake with pink icing and "Happy Birthday Bree" crudely written on the top. She set it on the stand behind the couch and exclaimed, "OH _HAGRID_! It's wonderful! I've never gotten anything this great before!" While tentatively throwing her arms around the huge man with all her might. He didn't seem to know exactly what he should do so he sat there awkwardly patting her back and trying not to crush her in the process. When Bree let go of his middle -she couldn't reach his neck- Hagrid grabbed a strange pink umbrella and pointed it at the fireplace mumbling something about it being too cold to not have the fire going. Bree could not have agreed with him anymore then she did on that one. Hagrid mumbled something inaudable, tapped the fireplace twice and there was a nice, cozy fire errupting, before their very eyes.

Hagrid stood up and said, "Well tha' settles tha' we'll stay here 'til dawn comes an' then we'll be on ar way."

"Sir, I can not allow-" Uncle Vernon was cut off abrubtly as Hagrid pointed his pink umbrella towards Uncle Vernon's chubby throat.

"I believe ya'd be proud ter give us that here sofa for our sleepin' needs." Uncle Vernon nodded quickly and it became silent for a few seconds until there were chewing noises coming from the couch.

Hagrid looked over, outraged that Dudley was eating Bree's first birthday cake he shoved Dudley away from the table and pointed his pink umbrella towards Dudley's chest. As Dudley turned around and tried running away Hagrid yelled after him, "Come 'ere yu great lump! I always thou' you'da made a good porker." He mumbled a few words and sparks came out of the end of his umbrella.

It had appeared as if nothing had happened when Dudley turned to face his father, until Aunt Petunia screeched. She made Dudley turn around and show them. They laughed, as a curly, pink pig tail had just settled itself on Dudley's great behind.

Bree whispered to Hagrid, "I reckon he was enough of a pig already that all he was missing the tale." The two of the laughed a bit more, Hagrid on the couch, and Bree laying on a few of the cushions on the floor. Exhaustion finally washed over Bree as it neared one in the morning and she fell into a deep sleep, filled with dreams of doing magic and pig tails and her new school.

**A/N: Well I hope this is long enough for you. I rather like this chapter. Gimme your insight. Read and Review please. :**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm rather proud of myself here. Two chapters in two days. I'm really getting into this story. It might just be my new fave. And I'm hoping you like this chapter as much as I do. :**

Morning came too quickly and Bree awoke to a peculiar tapping sound on the window. When she looked around more closely she saw it was an owl with a newspaper tightly clamped in its mouth. Bree hurried over to the window and opened it as the little owl flew in and landed on Hagrid's enormous chest. As Bree tried to shoo the bird off him he woke up and started laughing at Bree.

"Tha's me newpaper. Why didn' ya jus' wake me up a tell me it were here?" Hagrid asked still shaking with laughter. He took the newspaper from the owls beak and put two bronze coins in the pouch tied to it's leg.

Bree decided to ask Hagrid what the coins were, as she had never seen anything like them before. "Hagrid? What are those coins? I've never seen money like that before."

Hagrid smiled as if he had just remembered something. "Oh yeh. I'm sorry I jus' forgot tha' yeh haven' lived in tha' wizardin' world before." He took out the gold, silver and bronze coins and laid them out. He pointed to each in turn and explained to Bree that wizards and witches used different money then 'muggles' do. The gold coins were called galleons, the silver were sickles and the bronze ones were knuts. She thought she could remember that. The bigger the coins were, the more they were worth. As the owl flew off Hagrid got up and looked out the window, as if expecting to see something very interesting.

"Righ' so Bree, do yeh wanna get goin' now or wait a few minutes?" He asked, though Bree suspected he already knew the answer as he was grabbing their coats and moving the door as he spoke.

"Now please. But may I ask where we are going? I haven't the slightest idea as to how you get to any place that sells magical objects and it says I need all sorts of them. Where do I find all these spell books? Or a pewter cauldron? Or better yet, where do I find a magic wand?" Bree became more and more exasperated as she went through the list again in her head.

Hagrid just smiled pleasantly and said, "Diagon Alley o' course."

Bree didn't have time to question exactly _what_ Diagon Alley was or where she could find it because Hagrid was already out the door and untying the boat he had come over in. He motioned for her to climb in and pushed the boat away from shore while tapping the side, making it speed along.

"Bes' ter keep this between eachother. I'm not supposed ter do magic yeh see . . ." He trailed off, clearly immersed in his own memories. Bree didn't want to bother him so she stayed silent until they got to the subway. Hagrid was trying to squeeze through the turn styles, getting a lot of skeptical looks from other passers-by. As they got on the subway itself Hagrid took to counting down the stops to a spot in London where they would be near a bar called The Leaky Cauldron.

Suddenly Hagrid decided to tell Bree something about dragons in the wizarding world, earning even more skeptical looks then before. "Yeh see, Bree, Dragon's can be harmless. It all depends on how yeh train 'em. I've always wanted a dragon. Ever since I was jus' a 'lil boy . . ." He was cut off as the speakers announced their stop. "C'mon then we hav' a short walk to the Leaky Cauldron an' then we can go pick up all yer school supplies." He handed Bree a train ticket and told her to be very careful not to lose the ticket. Bree looked down at the ticket quickly and had to double check it to make sure she wasn't loosing her mind. The ticket she held said that she was to report to platform 9 and 3/4 at 11:00pm.

"Hagrid. Hagrid, I think there's been a mistake in my ticket. This says platform 9 and 3/4. There's no such thing."

"NO SUCH THING?! Of course there's such a thing. Yeh've jus' gotta know where teh find it." With that Hagrid pushed open the door to a shabby looking pub. Bree assumed that this must be the Leaky Cauldron Hagrid had been talking about and followed him in. He waved away a friendly looking bartender as the man had just gone to grab a bottle of something that looked suspiciously like some sort of alcohol. "Nothin' fur me today, Tom. I'm on official Hogwart's business, yeh see. Got ter bring young Bree here to get all 'er Hogwarts supplies."

The bar suddenly became eerily silent as everyone turned to get a good look at Bree.

"So it's true then. Bree Potter has returned to the wizarding world?" Asked a strange looking woman Bree didn't recognize.

Hagrid smiled, thumping Bree hard on the back enthusiactically. "Tha's righ' she sure is! Now if yeh'll all excuse us we'd best be on our way."

On their way out a skinny, nervous looking man wearing a strange, purple turban on top of his head stepped foward and introduced himself as Professor Quirrel. A poor, stuttering man he was. He seemed on edge about something, what it was Bree couldn't imagine. According to Hagrid this Professor Quirrel would be teaching her Defense Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year. Bree was not looking fowards to his classes. He hardly looked like a man who could defend himself against the dark arts. Let alone teach a class on how you do it. She didn't have much time to mull it over though, as Hagrid had just pulled her through the back exit and was staring at a plain brick wall as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life. He smiled after a few minutes and took out his bright pink umbrella and began tapping the bricks around a small hole in the wall in some sort of pattern. He smiled even wider as he stepped back and instructed Bree that she should do the same. Before she had a chance to ask what was happening, though, the bricks began to move themselves into a large archway that could easily fit both Hagrid and Bree through at the same time. But it wasn't the sudden archway that facinated Bree the most. It was what lay beyond the arch. There were many, many groups of magical families walking around, chatting with eachother and shopping in many, many magical stores. Bree saw Eeylops Owlery Emporium, Olivander's Wand Shop, Flourish and Blotts and many other stores that she became immediately facinated in. There was one shop in particular that caught her eye. There were several young boys with their noses pressed against the glass looking at a broomstick. On the end it had the words 'Nimbus 2000' on the end. It looked rather fancy for a broom and Bree wasn't sure why exactly she was so drawn to it.

She overheard a small brown-haired boy say, "Wow! A Nimbus 2000! It's the fastest racing broom yet!" As she was whisked away by Hagrid.

A sudden thought occured to her. "Hagrid? How am I to pay for all this? I haven't any money."

Hagrid smiled and pointed at a large, lopsided, white building and said, "Gringotts, the wizard bank. Not a safer place in the world. 'Cept perhaps 'Ogwarts."

As they neared the bank Bree noticed peculiar, ugly little creatures guarding the bank. "Hagrid, what exactly are those things?"

"Well they're Goblins, Bree. Not the friendliest 'o beasts, but bloody brilliant creatures." As they walked through the bank's entrance Bree noticed a small plaque with an inscripton on it, but didn't get a good chance to read it.

Hagrid and Bree walked up to a desk where a goblin looked down at her and said, "Name please?" In a long drawl.

"B - B - Bree Potter, sir." She stuttered.

"Do you have your key?" Bree smiled uncomterably, as she didn't own any keys, least one to a bank account. She looked to Hagrid who was, once again digging through his moleskin coat, in apparant search of her key.

He smiled triumphantly and said, "AH! There's the little booger." And placed a small, golden key infront of the goblin. Still smiling he took out an official looking letter and said, "A letter from Professor Dumbledore." Then leaned in closer and whispered, "It's about you - know - what in vault you - know - which."

The goblin took a glance at the note and said, "Very well." And began leading Bree and Hagrid towards a small cart on train tracks. As the cart began moving Bree noticed it was leading downward into a series of tunnels. As it was just picking up speed it came to an abrubt stop and the goblin announced it to be, "Vault 687. Key please." A sickly looking Hagrid handed the goblin the key and as the door opened he anounced, "Your vault, Ms. Bree Potter."

Bree had never seen so much gold and silver in her life. She looked to Hagrid to make certain it was her's. Truely her's. When he smiled and nodded she filled a bag Hagrid had given her that morning with many of the gold coins and much less of the silver and bronze ones. When she was done the goblin wordlessly got back into the cart and Bree and Hagrid quickly followed him. They went even deeper into the bank then before, picking up speed. Faster and faster they went through the tunnels of Gringotts. They came to another lurching stop infront of a much more official looking vault which the goblin announced to be, "Vault 713." He ordered them to, "Stand back." As he ran a grubby little finger down the center of the door and stood back himself. The vault door opened of it's own accord and Bree caught a glimpse of a single, tiny package settled in the center of the vault before Hagrid gripped it and put it in an inside pocket of his moleskin coat.

He turned to Bree grimly and said to her, "It's bes' tha' yeh don' metion this." She quickly nodded her agreement and they were off again, this time speeding upwards towards the light.

Outside the bank Hagrid appeared much less sickly and asked for Bree to give him her list. And told her he would get her everything she needed except for her robes and her wand. Both of which she would need to be present.

"I'll meet yer in Ollivander's okay?" When Bree agreed he pointed her in the direction of both stores and set off to get all of her other objects.

As Bree entered Madame Malkin's Robe Store she noticed a sleek, blond haired boy who couldn't be much olde then her also being fitted for his robes. As Madame Malkin finished measuring the boys she ushered Bree onto the stand next to him and left her measuring tapes to measure Bree of their own accord.

"Hello." Bree offered awkwardly.

The boy looked over at her and stared stupidly for a moment before holding out his hand and introducing himself. "Uhh . . . Hello. My . . . my name's Draco Malfoy. I don't believe I've ever seen you around."

Bree smiled warmly, glad she had decided to break the ice. "My name's Bree. Bree Potter. I've been living with my aunt and uncle ever since my parent's died."

Shock showed clearly on Draco's face when he said, "So . . . so it's true then. What they were saying in the Prophet. You're coming to Hogwarts. I daresay, I think we'd be brilliant friends." His mother walked in then and told him it was time to go. They bid eachother good-bye and Bree was left standing on her own again. When Madame Malkin was finished with her robes Bree hurried to Ollivander's but Hagrid wasn't there yet. She entered the shop and a tinkling sound followed her as she sat in a squishy armchair.

As she sat down a graying old man appeared before her and held out his hand. She tentatively shook it and before she could ask if he was Mr. Ollivander he said, "Yes, I daresay I was wondering when I'd be seeing you Bree Potter." He rummaged about shelves full of boxes and continued on saying, "It seems like only yesterday your mother and father were in here buying their wands. Which is your wand hand?"

"Err . . . I'm right handed." Bree replied hastily.

Mr. Olivander looked happily at Bree as he pulled a box from it's shelf and shoved the wand into her hands. She stood there holding it, not sure what to do with the piece of wood. As he realized that she had no idea what to do with it Mr. Ollivander briskly said, "Well go on! Give it a wave!" Bree pointed the wand at some shelves and waved. As she waved the wand, the boxes flew off their appropriate shelves and Mr. Ollivander mumbled, "No, no, definately not." They kept at this sot of game for quite a bit of time, building up a pretty large pile of wands. Suddenly Mr. Ollivander hobbled to the veyr back of the store. Bree thought maybe he had simply given up on her and had decided it best to just deny her any means of using magic. As she turned to leave she heard Mr. Ollivander hobbling back mumbling, "I wonder . . ." While handing her a peculiar wand. It was quite beautiful when you really looked at it. Bree grasped the wand and took one final wave, deciding that if this wand didn't work she would go back to the Dursley's and tell them that Hagrid was wrong about her being a witch and that she possed no magical powers what - so - ever. As she waved the wand a shower of red sparks erupted from the tip of the wand. Mr. Ollivander looked absolutely ecstic now as he looked at Bree he was mumbling, "Curious . . . very curious."

"Errr . . . excuse me Mr. Ollivander, but what's curious?" She asked uncomterably.

"You see, Ms. Potter, it's the wand that chooses the wizard. It's not always clear why. But it is curious, Ms. Potter that you should be destined to this wand when it's brother . . . gave you that scar." He empasized the last four words by jabbing a gnarled finger towards Bree's forehead.

"And, who . . . who was the wizard that _owned_ that wand?"

Mr. Ollivander leaned in and said in a harsh whisper, "We do not speak his name!"

As Bree went to ask Mr. Ollivander why the didn't speak who's mind there was a knock on the window. They both turned to see a rediculously enthusiastic Hagrid waving at Bree yelling, "Happy Birthday Bree!" Then holding up a large bird-cage with a beautiful snowy owl inside and now motioning for Bree to pay and come with him.

After Bree had given Mr. Ollivander 12 galleons, 3 sickles and 5 knuts she hurried outside with Hagrid. He smiled and said, "So yeh got yer wand then didja?"

"Yes. But Hagrid . . . who gave me this?" She asked pointing to the scar on her forehead. As she did so Hagrid looked around nervously and said, "I'll explain it to yeh in the Leaky Cauldron. C'mon then." When they got in the pub Hagrid requested for Tom the bartender to get them a private table away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the bar.

As Hagrid explained to Bree how Voldemort had killed her parents, trying to get to her she was outraged. How could someone want to kill her when she was just a baby?! Why did Voldemort have to take away her family from her. Even though the Dursley's were technically Bree's family by blood they would never really be her family. As she mulled over the information Hagrid had just bestowed upon her he had glanced at his watch exclaiming, "Blimey! Look at the time! We'd best be off if yeh wanna make yer train. I'm afraid I won' be able ter accompany yeh ter the train. Dumbledore'll be wantin' ter see . . . well he'll be wantin' ter see me."

**A/N: Right, well I didn't want to leave the chapter like this, but it's getting late and I wanted to put it up ASAP. I'm thinking of putting a oneshot up about Fred's death but that'll have to wait for tomorrow. OH! I've seemed to have lost my book so if there's anyone who can give me basic points in the chapters coming up I'd greatly appreciate it. Movies can only tell you so much. So Read and Review. :**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in chapters. I've been looking for my book for a while, and I still can't find it. Then I went to start the chapter like two days ago and I had a major writer's block so it's like grrr. Haha, anyways onto the story before I ramble anymore. Hope you enjoy it. (:**

Bree walked around the train station where Hagrid had left her nervously stealing glances at the big clocks as she tried her hardest to find Platform 9 and 3/4. While she looked she got the most curious looks from other people. Well, she could imagine why, the way she must look to anyone normal, pushing a cart with her trunk and her owl she had named Hedwig sitting on top of the trunk hooting gleefully. As bree passed a man who was giving out directions she doubled back, waiting for him to finish up. As he finished with the old woman she hurried foward, trying to get his attention. When she had finally gotten it she said, "Excuse me. Excuse me sir, could you tell me . . . how to get to Platform 9 and 3/4?"

The man whose name-tag revealed name was Frank glared at her and said, "Platform 9 and 3/4? You think you're being funny do you?" And turned away asking if anyone else needed help.

Bree glared at the man's receding back and continued her search. As she passed yet another Platform she saw a peculiar looking red-haired family and she tried tuning her ears to that side of the train station. As she got closer she heard the short woman saying, "It's the same every year. Packed with muggles."

"Muggles!" Bree whispered excitedly under her breath. These people were wizards. She hurried after them to see where they were off to.

They neared a Platform that looked much the same as all the other ones. The woman that had spoken before said, "Well then Percy, you first." And the tallest of the red-head boys ran towards the Platform, Bree braced herself for him to make impact with the brick wall, but he never did, in fact he just slipped right through. Bree wasn't sure if she had seen right, maybe she had imagined the boy. But the woman was speaking again, "Fred, you next."

Two identical red-head boys hurried foward, the one on the left looked indignantly at his mother and said, "He's not Fred, I am!"

The other twin finished, "Honestly, and you call yourself our mother."

"Well sorry then go on George."

The two exchanged a mischevious grin and said, "Only kidding, I am Fred." And they ran through the wall as well.

When the fourth red-headed boy stepped foward Bree went up to the woman and asked, "Excuse me. I was wondering if you could tell me how to . . ." She broke off awkwardly, as the rest of the family had turned to stare at her.

The woman smiled encouragingly and finished for her, "How to get to the Platform? No worries dear, it's Ron's first year as well." The last red-head boy turned to wave nervously at her. She waved back and turned her attention back to the woman who said with a smile, "What you have to do is walk straight at the wall, and you'll go right through. Best do it a bit of a run if you're nervous."

The smaller girl smiled at Bree and wished her good luck as she turned her cart to face the daunting brick wall. She closed her eyes and broke into a run, bracing herself for the impact that never came. When Bree opened her eyes she gasped at the site before her. The Hogwarts Express was a magnificiently scarlet train that would put the red-head family's red hair to shame. While she dragged her case along to the entrance of the train the two red-headed twins came up to her and properly introduced themselves. The one called Fred asked her if she needed any help with her trunk and she gladly accepted, letting Fred and George take either end of the thing, while she brought Hedwig into the empty compartment the twins found for her. Fred and George had some 'business' involving a boy called Lee Jordan and his tarantulla he got over the summer. They bid Bree goodbye and left her to look out at all the happy families parting with their children and she regretted the fact that she had never gotten to know her parents. Had never, and would never get to see their happy faces, filled with pride at her being accepted to Hogwarts. Bree's thoughts were interrupted when the youngest red-head boy, Ron entered the compartment.

Ron smiled awkwardly and said, "Hello, I'm Ron Weasley. Mind if I sit in here with you?"

Bree smiled and gestured to the seat across from her, replying, "No, not at all. I'm Bree by the way. Bree Potter."

Ron's eyes got huge and said, "Bloody hell! So the rumors are true then. Do you really have that . . . that . . . _scar_?"

Bree laughed and pushed her bangs away from her lightning bolt scar, causing Ron to gasp with delight.

The train took off and it got darker and darker outside with Bree and Ron made small talk. When an elderly woman with a trolley full of candies asked if they wanted anything Ron replied, "I haven't got any money. And besides, Mum packed me a tuna sandwich." He took out a pitiful looking sandwich and looked at it loathingly.

Bree took out some galleons which Ron looked at with surprise while Bree said, "We'll take the lot." And handed the gold to the elderly woman pushing the cart.

Eating their chocolate frogs (Bree had gotten Dumbledore as a card), cauldron cakes, bertie botts every flavor beans and an assortment of other candies, Ron took out a graying old rat and explained to Bree, "His name's Scabbers. He's been in our family for years. Percy gave him to me as Mum and Dad got him an owl for making prefect this year. Fred and George gave me a spell as to turn him yellow. Do you want to see?"

Bree edged fowards in her seat and said, "Yeah."

Ron cleared his throught loudly and took out his wand, but before he got to say his spell a bushy haired girl with an overbite walked in and looked at Ron happily. She said, "Have you seen a toad around here? A boy named Neville's lost his." She noticed Ron with his wand out and said, "Oh, you're going to do magic? Let's see then."

Bree and Ron exchanged glances. And Ron re-cleared his thought just a loudly and said, "Sunshine, daisies, butter-mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!"

A spark flew from the tip of Ron's wand and hit Scabbers, making the old rat squeak indifferently, but he deffinately had not turned yellow, which the girl noticed immediately. She critically asked, "Are you sure that's a REAL spell? I've only tried a few, but they've all worked for me. For example . . ." the girl walked over to Bree and pointed her wand to the middle of her face, "_Oculous reparo_." The tape that had previously held Bree's glasses together flew off with a snap and the glasses were no longer broken, but good as new.

Bree smiled at the girl and said thanks, while the girl oogled at her scar she hadn't covered after showing Ron. The girl suddenly said with a loud, surprised voice, "Jimminy Cricket! I know who you are! You're Bree Potter! I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger." Hermione turned to Ron and continued, "And you areeee?"

Ron, having just taken two chocolate frogs and stuffed them into his mouth replied to Hermione in a muffled voice, "Ron Weasley."

Hermione looked at him, clearly disgusted by his behavior and said, "Pleasure. Well I've got to help Neville. You should probably change into your robes, I expect we'll be arriving soon." And left with a flourish, leaving the compartment's door open with Ron and Bree gaping after her.

"Well she's a right prick, now isn't she?" Bree asked to lighten the mood.

While Ron and Bree got back to their small talk the blond boy she had met in Madame Malkins, Draco Malfoy, passed their compartment, doubling back with shock etched across his face. "Bree? What is it that you are doing with a Weasel?" He asked with a smirk towards Ron.

Bree glared at him indignantly, "I'm sitting with Ron Weasley because he is nice, much nicer then you appear to be Draco. As far as I know I'm allowed to sit with anyone I want." Bree noticed that Draco was now staring at her scar, "Please do stop staring at my scar, Draco. Yes, my last name is Potter." Bree added with a smirk of her own.

Draco opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, resembling a fish out of water, when he finally got his voice back he replied, "I knew the rumors were true. I just knew it. And the Weasley's, for your information . . ."

"Are good people who are much more interesting then you." Bree cut across.

Draco glared at her and changed the subject, "Well what house do you suppose you'll be in? I'm going to be in Slytherin, the finest house in Hogwarts, reserved only for the best witches and wizards of noble heir. Your friend the Weasel here will be in Gryffindor, I'm sure. The enemy of Slytherin's. Filled with mudbloods and blood traitors such as himself."

Bree had no idea what mudbloods and blood traitors were but she knew that they certainly weren't good things at all. "For your information Draco, I think I'd like to be in Gryffindor. Anything to get away from you. Besides, Slytherin sounds like a horrid house. Where shall you sleep? In the dungeons?" Bree had no idea if the school had a dungeon and really didn't care, she refused to be put in a house with Draco Malfoy. He was so rude to her only friend so far and she wouldn't stand for such nonsence. "Now get out Draco. I don't want to have to see your pompous, ugly, baboon face any longer. Close the door on your way out."

Draco gave Bree and Ron a cold look while stalking out and slamming the door behind him. Ron was giving her a oogling look and said, "Bloody hell, Bree. I think I'm going to like being friends with you. You'll be in Gryffindor for sure!"

Bree smiled and they continued talking about their sorting while changing into their school robes.

The train came to a stop and everyone piled out. Ron and Bree looked around nervously and heard a great, booming voice Bree knew to be Hagrid's yelling, "Firs' years! Firs' years ova' here with me!" When Bree dragged Ron to the front Hagrid greeted her happily and asked, "Did'ja have a nice trip Bree? Oh you've made a frin' already. Yeh mus' be a Weasley." Ron's ears turned red at this and he nodded. Hagrid continued yelling for first years and they made their way to a bunch of boats sitting in a dense, black lake.

Bree and Ron made their way into one with two boys named Dean Thomas and Shamis Finnigin. They made their way across the lake silently and Bree nervously grabbed Ron's hand tightly when they made their way up to the castle and noticed his ears turning even redder then before. "Do you mind?" She asked quickly, hoping she hadn't offended him in any way.

He smiled nervously and replied, "Not at all."

Bree smiled and looked around the entrance way they had been brought to. There was a old, strict looking witch standing near huge doors waiting for them and when everyone was inside she briskly introduced herself as Professor McGonnegal. She explained to the students that, "You're house will be like your family. Any good deeds will earn you points. While any rule breaking will loose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. Come along." Professor McGonnegal led the first years through the enormous doors and into a huge room that had four tables. Ron squeezed her hand reassuringly which made her feel a bit better, though he looked equally nervous himself. Professor McGonnegal opened a long roll of parchment and read a few names Bree didn't recognize from it and the students got sorted into their according houses. When Professor McGonnegal called out Hermione Granger's name Bree decided to listen. Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor. A small girl named Susan Bones was first to be sorted into Huffelpuff. When Draco was sorted into Slytherin almost instantly Bree squeezed Ron's hand again. But then he was called and Ron had to let go of her hand, leaving Bree very much nervous and feeling alone. Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, and then it was Bree's turn.

"Breanna Potter?" Professor McGonnegal called out a second time into the whispers that had broken out. Ron gave her a reassuring smile from the Gryffindor table and Bree walked foward. When she put the hat on it came past her eyes.

Suddenly a small voice in her head whispered to her, "_Hmmm, curious. Right then. Mmhmm. Right. You would do well in Slytherin, I believe. There is greatness in you. And a need to prove yourself._"

"_NO! I don't want to be in Slytherin!_"

"_Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great you know! It's all here, in your head._"

"_Not Slytherin. Anything but Slytherin._"

"_Well if you're sure. Better be . . ._" The voice in Bree's ear was silent for a moment before yelling to the students, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Bree sighed with relief and hurried to the loudly cheering Gryffindor table to sit with Ron. The rest of the first years were sorted into their houses and the hall once again fell silent when Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, stood up to make an announcement.

"I have a few start of term announcements to make. First of all, you must be reminded that the Forbidden Forrest is strictly forbidden for anyone to enter. And the third floor corridor, on the right side is also forbidden, to anyone who does not wish to endour a most painful death. Now, let the feast, begin!"

Dumbledore clapped his hands and a feast appeared out of no where. Around 1/2 way through the meal a ghost appeared through the table directly in front of Bree and Ron and said, "Oh hello!"

Ron dropped his chicken and stared at the ghost, clearly shocked, then he said, "I know who you are! You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you don't mind."

Hermione had over heard the conversation and said, "Nearly headless? But how can you be nearly headless?"

Nick replied with a smile and said, "Like this." While he pulled his head to rest on his shoulder. Hermione cringed and Nearly Headless Nick floated off to the other end of the table to chat with a few of the older students.

When the feast was over all the prefects had to take the first years to their dorms. The boy Bree recognized as Percy had risen and was saying for all the Gryffindor first years to follow him. As they got onto the stair Percy said, "You should know to watch out for the stairs. They like to change." And sure enough, Bree looked up to see several sets of stairs changing, many with people actually on them.

Percy led the first years up to the seventh floor to a painting of a fat lady and said, "Behind this painting is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The password is '_cabbaged draconis_' don't forget it or you won't be able to get in." When they entered the common room Percy stopped before two sets of stone steps and said, "Girls will find their dormitories up the stairs and to the right. Boys are to the left."

The first years went up into their own dorms and got ready for bed. Bree fell asleep almost immediately and had a pleasant, dreamless night of sleep.

**A/N: Well I'm really tired sp the end of the chapter sucks. I think the begining does too, but at least it's pretty long. What did you think of it? Love it? Hate it? Sort of both? Please give me your input. (:  
**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: I've FINALLY found my book. HOORAY! I know it irritates some people that I use the same plot as the book but seriously, I can't change the entire plot. I just like to play with J. K. Rowling's creation.**

"There, look!"

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Whispers followed Bree from the moment she left her dormitory the next day. People would walk by her in the corridors, just staring as they went by. Once an older boy was looking at her so intensly that he tripped, throwing all his possessions across the hall, smashing ink bottles, and hitting those closest to him with an assortment of school books. Bree really wished people wouldn't stare at her all the time. She wasn't exactly comfterable with staring. Mostly because she was scared someone would notice her now-fading bruises, or the little drops of blood dripping from her cloak sleeve. The attention also wasn't making it any easier for her to find her classes either.

There were over 150 staircases at Hogwarts of all shapes and sizes. There could be long, narrow, rickety ones, or some that led somewhere different on a certain day, even some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump over or you'd get sucked in. That was one thing Bree missed from the muggle world, the normal stairs. She missed the doors too. There were some doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. The last ones were particularly painful for Bree, as she was new to all the magic and Hogwarts and seemed to have a knack for being tricked by the school. It was also very hard to remember where anything was in the school, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Bree was sure the coats of armor could walk. The ghosts didn't help her case, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist, who seemed to have taken a liking to Bree, was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "I'VE GOT YOUR NOSE!" Like a four year old.

Even worse than Peeves, if Bree were even sure that was possible, was the caretaker, Mr. Filch. Bree and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that, unluckily, turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, but instead managed to convince himself that they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who happened to be passing, rescued them. Bree noticed how he looked at her with a strange expression, like he was guilty about something, what she had no idea, but that was the impression he gave her.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with horrible, ugly yellow eyes just like Filch's. She strolled along the corridors alone. But break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd run off to get Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins, who seemed to have some sort of map or something that she couldn't convince either one of them to tell her about) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick, which Bree had almost done before George caught her at it and restrained her until the cat slunk away, glaring resentfully, into the darkness. And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves.

There was a lot more to magic than waving your wand and saying a few funny words, as Bree quickly found out. Students had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Bree wasn't pleased about this class as she hadn't ever really liked staring at stars.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a plump little witch with browinish curly hair called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for, Bree didn't like this class, but she put up with it and partnered with Ron who seemed equally displeased with the learning's.

Easily, the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been a very old wizard when he had fallen asleep and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Professor Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got famous wizards and witches names mixed up. Bree and Hermione Granger were the only two people in the entire class who seemed able to stay awake enough to answer questions and take good notes.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard with hair almost as silver as the headmaster's himself. Flitwick had to stand on a huge pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Bree's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was, again, different. McGonagall was strict and clever, and she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. All the students were very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match, though Bree was sure she had seen her own match emit a bit of smoke before they left. Professor McGonagall showed the class how Hermione's match had gone all silver and pointy and gave her a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met on an adventure and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. A prince from Africa, he told them, had given his turban to him as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but Bree wasn't sure she really believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. Another reason was that they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban. To Bree's amusement, Fred and George insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Somehow Bree didn't think this a totally ridiculous statement, though say that in front of Hermione and she'd have your head for insulting one of her beloved teachers. Bree was very relieved to find out that she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron, who came from a brilliant magical family, didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Bree and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Bree asked Ron as she poured cinnamon over her French toast, and sugar over her frosted flakes.

"Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them. I suppose we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Man, I wish McGonagall favored us," said Bree. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. Just then, the mail arrived. Bree had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when hundreds of owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages in front of them.

Hedwig hadn't brought Bree anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble her fingers and have a bit of her toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the maple syrup and sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Bree's plate. Bree tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Bree,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? You can bring a friend if you want. I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

- Hagrid

Bree borrowed one of Fred's quills and, scribbled; Yes, I'll be glad to come. I'm going to bring my friend Ron if he wants to come. See you later. On the back of Hagrid's note, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Bree had gotten the idea that she startled Professor Snape. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape wasn't startled by Bree, he hated her. Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled things floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Bree's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Breanna Potter. Our new . . . celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle stared at her from behind their books. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, like Professor McGonagall, Snape had you copy every word and also like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death . . . if you aren't as big a bunch of idiots as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Bree and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a idiot.

"Breanna!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Bree glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as she was, while Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"Call me Bree please, sir, and I don't know, sir, I haven't read the . . ."

Bree's rambling was cut off as Snape's lips curled into a sneer. Bree had noticed quite quickly that Snape couldn't look at her hair without having a slight smile, but he could easily look at her eyes with an angry glare. "Tut, tut . . . fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Breanna, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Bree didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. She tried not to look at Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were silently laughing, though Draco looked torn between laughing at her with his friends and shouting her the correct answers across the classroom.

"I don't know, sir. But it looks like Hermione does. She's the one with her hand in the air." A couple of the people closer to her sniggered and Hermione shot her a mangled look between gratefulness and anger. The anger, Bree guessed, would be because she had been rude to a teacher.

Snape ignored the last of her statement and replied with a larger sneer, still glaring at her brown eyes. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Breanna?" Bree forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She had looked through her books on the train a bit, but did Snape expect her to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Breanna, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Bree loudly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few more people then before laughed. Bree caught the Irish boy, Seamus Finnigan's eye, and Seamus winked at her and she smiled back. He was, after all, pretty cute.

Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Breanna, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Then he turned to the rest of the class. ⌠Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said with his back to Bree, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House the next time you decide to get cheeky with me, Breanna."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He walked around in his long dark cloak, watching them weigh dried and crushed ingredients, criticizing all the Gryffindors. It looked like the rumors of Snape favoring the Slytherins was true. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Draco had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

Bree had half the mind to get up and help Neville when Snape stalked over to him.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Bree and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. Snape's glare bored into Bree's eyes. "You! Breanna! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Bree's temper began to get the best of her, but Ron kicked her behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Bree's mind was racing and her spirits were low. She'd lost a point for Gryffindor in her very first week! Why did Snape hate her so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Let's go and see Hagrid now."

"Oh yeah! I nearly forgot about Hagrid! That'll cheer me up for sure!"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A bow and a huge pair of boots were outside the front door.

When Bree knocked loudly they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang, back! Get back!"

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black hound that looked as if it were part giant itself.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with an equally massive patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Bree told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles and red hair. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Bree and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Bree's lap and drooled all over her new robes. Bree and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her. I'll betcha Filtch puts her up to it."

Bree told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Bree not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me. Expecially when he looks into my eyes."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot, great with animals."

Bree wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Bree picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet.

As Bree casually flipped through the pages of moving pictures and articles she didn't care about she saw one that really caught her eye:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"Hagrid!" said Bree, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it; Hagrid definitely didn't meet Bree's brown eyes this time. He grunted and offered her another rock cake. Bree read the story again.

⌠The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault 713, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Bree and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Bree thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Bree?

When they got up to the Gryffindor tower they were met by Fred and George who dragged Bree in beaming.

"So, you being a mischief maker yourself Bree, what would you say those Gringotts thieves were after?"

"I . . . I don't know." Bree didn't dare tell them about Hagrid's suspicious behavior at tea, and when Ron looked as if he were about to spill the beans she stomped on his foot to stop him from saying too much, shooting him a meaningful look that he seemed to understand.

"Ah well," Fred continued. "So Bree, would you fancy a sneak out to the lake tonight around midnight or so?"

Before she could answer, Ron interjected, "Oi! I'm your brother! Why shouldn't you invite me, eh?"

"Ahh, little bro. You're Mum's last good little boy. You'll be making Prefect before you know it. Where as Breanna here, well she's a true trouble maker at heart."

George added, "Plus, you're no where near as pretty as she is Ronald."

Bree blushed and said, "Yeah, yeah okay I'll go with you guys tonight. But it's not because I want to. It's because I enjoy your flattery above other things."

"Oh? And these other things would be?" George started while looking at Fred to continue.

"Is it our good looks?"

"Our wit?"

"Our irresistible charm."

Bree decided to play along with the game and said, "Oh it's all of the above, most definitely."

The four of them, Ron interjecting himself into random pieces of the conversation as to not be excluded, bantered like that until 9:00pm, upon which time Bree stood up, yawning and mumbled something about having to go to bed because she had tons of homework to work on. The three boys bade her goodnight, the twins winking, and when she got into her bed beside Hermione she fell into a light, drifting sleep.

**A/N: This is crap. Sorry. But I set it up so that the next chapter will be a huge one not out of the book at all. (I know this one had lots of quotes from the book, but the rest of the chapters wont I promise.) Read and review please. (:**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm definitely liking this story more and more as I go along. And it looks like other people like it too. Yay. Haha well I really like this chapter. Might even be my favorite so far.**

Bree awoke sometime around 11:30pm after having the best dream she'd had in a long time.

She could remember it with clarity, a toddler she knew to be herself flying, scar less, on a tiny toy broomstick. There was a redheaded woman and an untidy black haired man, who she knew were her parents, watching her with laughter, and there was another hansom man there beside her father watching her as well. He looked like an old family friend and the man felt really familiar to Bree, though she couldn't name him.

When she got up and stretched silently Bree hurried to her trunk where the clothes all the girls had given her were hidden. Bree now had no need for Dudley and Aunt Petunia's old clothes she had so recently worn. Now she had a small wardrobe made up mostly of clothes from Hermione Granger and Lavender Brown, though the other girls had chipped in too. And Hermione was even able to find and perform a spell to make all the clothes fit her perfectly. When Bree finally choose her favorite jeans, and nice yellow tank top and a gray sweatshirt, to cover her wrists, she hurried to the girl's bathroom, hoping she wouldn't wake anyone, especially Hermione. As she finished changing and brushed her messy straight hair into an acceptable look she hurried down the stairs.

Of course, Bree being Bree she tripped on the last step, startling George awake and Fred from his pacing. She had wanted to make a nice entrance, but this would just have to do, wouldn't it? The twins were hurrying over to the spot where she had fallen while she brushed herself off and stood up.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked, while clearly holding back laughter.

Bree glared at him playfully and replied, "Well if you two had been paying any kind of attention I'd be a lot better. What has your mother been teaching you boys?"

George had woken enough to play along and decided to, "You know, Fred she's right. We are no such gentlemen that we should be. Perhaps we ought to just off ourselves right now. Slit our wrists the muggle way. Much more dramatic."

Fred replied without noticing Bree's uncomterable, guilty look. "You, brother are a genius! Should we do it now?"

Bree interjected, "No, I don't think so. I think we'd better get going though before I get so annoyed with the two of you I go back to bed."

That seemed to motivate the boys and George mumbled a spell that made them into human chameleons. And led Bree by the hand out of the portrait hole. When they were out the Fat Lady was looking around for the people who had awoken her and decided that she had imagined it, going back to bed.

The trio had almost gotten caught twice because of Bree. George decided to carry her after Mrs. Norris had heard her tripping down the steps.

"Blimey Bree! Didn't your family feed you?" When Bree was silent he put two and two together. "Merlin's beard! They actually didn't feed you did they? That's horrible! If they ever try that again we're getting you from that place immediately."

Bree smiled, sensing that he wasn't kidding when he said that. She threw her arms around his neck, carefully though as to not upset her most recent cuts. She could finally trust someone, and know that they weren't going to hurt her in any way.

When they finally got down to a beech tree on the lake's edge George lightly shook her awake, though she hadn't realized she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes groggily she saw that there was an entire little picnic set up for them. She smiled and said, "This is wonderful! Thanks so much for bringing me!"

"It was no problem. Well, no, that was a lie, the spell I used to make the basket small enough to fit in my pocket took a bit of hard work but I finally got it right." Bree laughed and congratulated him on his brilliance.

The three of them bantered on about un-important stuff for about half an hour. It was nearly one in the morning but yet, still hot outside.

"Hey. Wanna go swimming?"

"George, I errr . . . don't know how."

George looked back at her with shock etched all over his face. "What do you mean you don't know how to swim? They didn't feed you or teach you even the most basic things? Did they want you to drown? . . . Never mind. Don't answer that."

Bree looked down at her feet and said, "If you want to, you guys can teach me. But I understand if you don't want to."

Both twins answered in unison, "We'll teach you." They each had an identical grin and Bree was kind of regretting asking them to teach her.

"Alright then, Bree. Get out of your clothes. We won't peek, promise." George conjured Bree a bathing suit and turned away with Fred.

When Bree finished changing she quickly zipped up the sweatshirt over it. She couldn't take it off. What would the twins think if they saw her arms? Particularly the wrist area.

"Okay! You can turn around now!" She yelled over to them, successfully hiding the fear in her voice.

George turned around and said, "Well you've got to take the sweatshirt off if you're going to go swimming!"

"Errr . . . no. I don't think I'm going to swim anymore. I . . ." Her lame excuses were cut off as George playfully got the sweatshirt off her while Fred distracted her by tickling her ribs.

When the sweatshirt was off she heard a gasp come from the twins and she quickly pulled her arms away. George pulled it back and Bree said, "No! You don't understand!"

"I don't understand what? Why did you do this? How many are there?" He asked in a loud voice as her turned her arms this way and that.

"You wouldn't understand why I did it. Just don't tell anyone about it. Please!" With that Bree wretched her arms from their hands and collected her clothes, running off sobbing.

She could hear Fred and George running after her, she didn't even care if she got caught right now. All she knew was that now she only had Ron. She had been wrong to trust so easily. They were going to yell at her. To hit her just like Uncle Vernon did when he had found her bleeding to death in the cupboard. Of course, he had taken her to the hospital first, but when they got home the beating was the worst one Bree had ever experienced in her entire life. He had hit her because the doctors had found bruises; hit her because doctors had seen her at all. Hit her because, though she didn't know it then, she was magical. And Bree hadn't even bothered fighting back. She had wanted to die then just as much as she wanted to die now. But all she had to do was get to the girl's staircase. Get into her bed and then Fred and George wouldn't find her. She shouted the password at the Fat Lady when she got to the portrait hole and literally fell into the common room. She picked herself up and hurried to get to her bed, not even caring if anyone woke up this time. What would it do? Get her a detention? Loose her house points? Those things mattered very little to Bree right now. She just had to get away. Had to get to the promise of the blade. Her shiny little friend would certainly take all her pain, all her worries away. She wouldn't kill herself; just drain as much blood as she safely could. Not too deep, but by now Bree was an expert on just how deep to go. How deep was too deep, and how deep was just deep enough. She fumbled with the latch to her trunk and wretched out the rusty blade, pressing it to her skin, calming as drops of blood came at request. As she pressed deeper she felt more blood come. A lot was coming out, but not too much. Finally when Bree was satisfied with the cut she clambered into bed, pulling the red and gold curtains tightly shut and crying into her pillow. So much for a good nights sleep. There were too many emotions running through her mind for Bree to sleep. She vaguely noticed Hermione stirring in the bed beside her, but didn't care if she woke everyone in the room with her tears. There would be questions tomorrow. And questions were never good. All Bree could do was pray that the boys wouldn't tell anyone what they saw tonight. Hopefully, no one would notice her sheets. She always had new ones the next night anyways. So she'd just have to be very careful about what she did in the little dormitory until then.

Bree held no doubt in her mind that the twins would try to talk to her tomorrow so she'd just do her best to avoid them, and to ignore them at meals. Finally Bree's tears were gone, though her eyes hurt so she closed them, drifting off into a disturbing night of sleep. Still thinking that she was lucky she hadn't trusted Fred and George enough to tell them about her 'bedroom.' Or about the beatings, though there were still fairly noticeable bruises on her body.

**A/N: Sorry for ending the chapter like that. I was sick of writing and it's still over 1,500 words long. Next chapter will be much longer, promise. But still, though it lacks length, this was a pretty intense chapter, don't you agree? Well anyways, read and review and I'll try to get the next chapter out in a few days.**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Haha, so yeah last chapter sucked in length but I thought it was still pretty good. Hmmm well not much to say so on with the chapter! (:**

Bree woke up the next morning to Hermione shaking her. She silently wondered how long she had been asleep but didn't think it could have been that long since her eyes were still raw from all her crying.

Hermione had noticed the eyes. "What's wrong, Bree?"

"Nothing." She mumbled. "Bad dream."

Hermione looked at her skeptically and noticed the sweatshirt that had bloodstains on it. "What's with the sweatshirt?"

Bree looked around nervously and said, "What? Oh, yeah I skinned it tripping on some stairs. I think it was Peeves' fault I tripped in the first place. I haven't the slightest idea why he's taken such a liking to me. Honestly I find it quite annoying."

Hermione ate up Bree's lie and looked relieved while saying, "Well you are famous in the wizarding world, correct? I suppose Peeves just likes to pick on people with publicity. Glad I haven't got anything to be famous for. You on the other hand, well conquering You-know-who is quite a thing to be famous for, don't you think?"

"Well I suppose it is a reason to be famous. If only I could still have parents. . . . Well, anyways I was wondering if there's anyone in the bathroom, I'm in desperate need of a shower."

"Oh, yes Lavender's just finishing up in there. And after your shower you can just leave your sweatshirt on my bed and I'll fix it up good as new by tonight."

Bree smiled warmly, "Thanks tons, Hermione. You're a life saver." She gathered some clothes out of her trunk and waited outside the bathroom door for Lavender to come out. When she finally did Bree hurried inside to examine the damage she had done. When she bent her arm the long scab cracked, making a small trickle of blood flow down her arm as she stepped into the shower to wash off before classes. When she was fully dressed Bree left the bathroom to have Hermione magically dry and straighten her long, un-tidy red hair into a presentable style for the day. Bree looked at herself in the mirror, making sure none of her newest cuts showed under her cloak. Bree sat on the edge of her bed while Hermione sorted out her hair and sweatshirt. When they were done making Bree look presentable they gathered their books and headed down to the common room.

"Hey, Bree. Did you have fun with Fred and George last night?" Ron asked as she came down the stairs. Hermione glanced at her, but didn't say anything.

Bree smiled and said, "Yeah, it was fun. They tried to teach me to swim but I left before they could." She glanced at the Gryffindor's bulletin board and said, "What's that sign up there?"

Ron let out a gleeful yelp and yelled, "Flying lessons! We're getting flying lessons Bree!" While pulling her along to the said board to closer inspect the announcement.

Bree groaned when she got to the part that said the Gryffindor first years would be learning with the Slytherin first years. Which would mean Bree would be learning with Draco. Just what she needed, a stupid slimy Slytherin pawning over her, insulting her only friend while she tried to fly on a broomstick. "Great. Just great. I get to learn to fly a broom with Draco. And to make a total fool of myself in front of everyone."

"But Bree, you've never flown a broom before. How do you know you'll be horrible?"

"It's just a feeling about Draco making fun of my only friend while I'm on a stick of wood in the air that I don't like."

Ron laughed quietly and said, "If you're horrible I'll get someone on the Quidditch team to help train you. I'm sure anyone would love to teach you, the famous Bree Potter."

Bree smiled at the joke and said; "Well if I'm horrible I'll hold you to that. C'mon let's go to breakfast. I'm starving."

Ron nodded appreciatively and they climbed out the portrait hole to the great hall to eat. When they passed Draco on their way to the Gryffindor table they heard him complaining loudly of how first years never made the Quiddich teams and how he had been training for it since he was six.

Ron noticed her staring and said, "I know Malfoy talks of Quiddich a lot, but I'll bet that's all it is. Just talk. Don't worry about it. Oh look! Here's Fred and George, shall we give them some room?"

"No. I don't think we should. We're kind of . . . fighting. Let them sit next to you."

"Alight, move down towards Lavender then so they won't be next to you." Bree moved down while Ron did the same, letting the twins sit on his other side.

"Oh hello dear Breanna, have a nice sleep?" George said from Fred's other side.

"No, actually I only got a few hours of sleep."

"Huh, sorry to hear that. Did Hermione do your hair for you this morning, it looks particularly nice."

"Wha . . . Oh, well, yeah she did." Bree smiled uncomterably and was grateful when the food appeared, leaving her with something else to do with her mouth while listening to Ron repeat the story of when he stole his brother Charlie's broomstick and had almost hit a perfect hang glider. She tuned into Seamus's latest story. The way half the children for wizarding families spoke it seemed that they had all spent half their childhood flying on broomsticks down the countryside.

Bree agreed with Dean Thomas's liking of the muggle sport, soccer, where as Ron had already fought with him about how stupid a sport was that had only one ball and the player weren't allowed to fly was. Though when Bree had come up to Ron's dormitory to get him for a trip to Hagrid's hut once she had caught him prodding Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team, trying to get the players to move.

Neville, though a pure blood wizard had never been on a broomstick, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Bree thought she'd had good reason since Neville had already endured even more accidents then herself on his own two feet, let alone off the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. Flying was something she couldn't learn how to do out of one of the library's many books, not that she hadn't tried. All through breakfast Thursday she had bored everyone with her lectures out of Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on her every word; desperate for anything that might help him keep on his broomstick later, but everyone else had been pleased when the mail had interrupted her lecturing.

Bree hadn't gotten any mail since Hagrid's invitation, something that Draco had noticed too. He was always getting packages full of sweets and little notes from home and had frequently asked her why her family hadn't sent her anything. Once or twice he had tried to shove an entire package of brownies at her, telling his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, that it was because no one liked her enough to send her anything, while slipping a note saying he wanted to still be friends with her regardless of what house she was in.

Neville's grandmother had sent him a package this morning with a small glass ball, a bit larger then a marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a rememberall!" He explained excitedly. "Gran knows I forget things. This tells you if you've forgotten anything. Look, you hold it tight like this and if the smoke turns red . . ." Neville's face fell because just as he had been explaining the remeberall to them, it had glowed a bright scarlet color. "You've err . . . forgotten to do something."

Neville was still trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy had walked by, and snatched the rememberall out of his hand. Bree and Ron had jumped to their feet, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble from miles away, was there in a flash.

"What is going on here?"

"Draco's got my rememberall, Professor."

Scowling, Draco dropped the rememberall back on the table and said, "Just looking."

At three thirty that afternoon, Bree, Ron, and all the other Gryffindor first years hurried down the front steps to the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they walked towards what Ron said to be the Quiddich pitch, opposite the Forbidden Forest, whose trees swayed darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, as were about twenty or so broomsticks. Draco flashed her a warm smile when she walked by, but hid it quickly so he wouldn't be embarrassed in front of all his Slytherin friends.

Bree had heard Fred and George telling the first years about the school brooms. Some of them would start vibrating if you flew too high, while others would always pull slightly to the left.

When their flying teacher, Madame Hooch, arrived she barked at them to, "Hurry up! Stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"

Bree glanced down at her ancient looking broom and doubted that the thing would fly at all, let alone with her on it.

"Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'up.'" Madame Hooch called down the line of brooms.

Everyone shouted, "Up!"

Bree's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was only one of three that did so. Hermione Granger's broom had simply rolled over on the ground, and poor Neville's hadn't moved at all. Bree thought that maybe brooms were like animals, and could tell when you were afraid of them. Neville's voice clearly reflected his fear.

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their broomsticks without sliding off the end and walked down the rows correcting their grips. Bree and Ron were delighted to hear her say that he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now when I blow my whistle I want you to kick off of the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. One, two . . ."

But Neville, nervous and ever so jumpy kicked off hard before Madame Hooch blew her whistle.

"Come back, boy!" Madame Hooch yelled after him. But Neville was rising up into the air quickly. Twenty feet, thirty feet, then he looked down at the ground that was falling away, he gasped and slipped sideways off his broom, landing on the ground with an echoing CRACK.

"Broken wrist. Tut, tut. Come on, boy." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be back on the train before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

Neville and Madame Hooch made their way off the Quidditch pitch. As soon as they were out of earshot Draco broke into laughter. Bree's temper was rising fast; something Ron was now able to sense. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly just as Draco darted forward and snatched something out of the grass. The rememberall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Look!" Draco shouted. "It's that stupid ball Longbottom's gran got him."

"Give it here, Draco." Bree shouted.

Draco gazed at her with a smirk. "No. I don't think so. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it. How about on the roof?"

"Give it here!" Bree yelled, but Draco had leapt on his broomstick and flown off. He hadn't been lying; he was really good at flying. Hovering level with the top of a tree he yelled down, "Well! Come and get it then, Breanna!"

Bree grabbed her broom, blood pounding in her ears.

"No!" Hermione yelled. "Madame Hooch told us not to move! You'll get us all into trouble!"

Bree ignored her. She kicked off hard from the ground and soared into the sky. Air rushed through her hair, and her robes whipped out behind her, and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she'd found something she could do without being taught. This was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps from the class and an admiring whoop from Ron.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. Draco looked stunned that she would actually come after him.

"Give it here! Or I swear I'll knock you off your broom!" Bree's anger had returned and she was feeling confident as ever knowing that she could do something right at the school.

"Oh, yeah?" Draco called, looking slightly worried.

Bree knew, somehow, what to do. She leaned forward and grasped the broom's handle tightly. It shot toward Draco like a bullet. He got out of the way just in time and Bree made a sharp turn and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save you, is there Draco?" Bree called.

The same though seemed to have struck Draco and he threw the glass ball into the air, yelling, "Catch it if you can then!" While he streaked toward the ground.

Bree saw the tiny glass ball rise into the air and start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down. Next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the rememberall. Wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching. She stretched out her hand and a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"BREANNA POTTER!"

Her heart sank faster than she'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling.

"Never . . . in all my years at Hogwarts . . ."

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her eyes flashed furiously, ". . . how dare you . . . might have broken your neck . . ."

"It wasn't her fault, Professor . . ."

"Be quiet, Miss Patil!"

"But Malfoy . . ."

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Breanna, follow me, now."

Bree caught sight of Draco's face. He looked apologetic, but was laughing with the rest of the Slytherins.

She was going to be expelled, she just knew it. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her; she had to jog to keep up. Now she'd done it. She hadn't even lasted two weeks. She'd be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when she turned up on the doorstep? What would Uncle Vernon do? She shuddered, knowing that the beatings would be horrible when she got back there.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to her. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Bree trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid's assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards, while she slunk around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? Bree questioned in her head. Was Wood a cane she was going to use on her? A cane wasn't so bad. Uncle Vernon had once used a metal rod on her; a wooden cane wasn't so bad.

But Wood turned out to be a person, a large fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Bree. Bree turning redder by the second, uncomterable under the older boy's gaze.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two of them.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood -- I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Breanna?"

Bree nodded silently. She didn't have a clue what was going on, but she didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs.

"She caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Oliver was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Breanna?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"She's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Bree and staring at her. "Light . . . speedy . . . we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor . . . a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. . . ."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at a tomato-red Bree. "I want to hear you're training hard, Breanna, or I may change my mind about punishing you." Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"Really, Professor? My father played . . . er . . . Quidditch?"

Professor McGonagall's smiled widened and she replied, "Oh, yes. A right good one he was, too. I do hope you'll follow in his footsteps. Best Quidditch team Griffindor's had in years was the one with your father on it."

Bree smiled as she watched Professor McGonagall walk away. Quidditch. Her father played this sport. Now she would, too. Finally, she knew a bit more about her family. Hopefully more if she was good at this strange sport. Her stomach rumbled loudly and Oliver suggested that they went to dinner.

**A/N: Haha yes! I know that the last part was sucky, but I thought the rest was still pretty good. Well, read and review. I really want 25 reviews. I'm weird like that. (:**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: I got my first flame ever on my last chapter. Cool. If you have a problem with the way I write, might I suggest making me a suggestion on how to better my writing style? That'd help tons. Kay thanks. (:**

"You've got to be kidding, right? Once I believe you, you're going to tell me that this is all a well planned out joke and you've got detention for the rest of the year, I know it."

Bree hadn't gotten the chance to tell Ron what had happened after she went with Professor McGonagall off the Quidditch pitch until they'd gotten back to the common room after dinner. "Nope. Not kidding. And, you know what? My dad used to play Quidditch, too! How cool is that?" She announced proudly.

"Seeker?" Ron repeated awestruck. "But first years never make the team. You must be the youngest player in . . ."

"A century!" Bree finished, prouder then ever. "Oliver told me during dinner."

Ron sat gaping at her so Bree went on. "I start training next week. Only don't tell anyone! Oliver wants to keep it a secret. I've no idea how I'm supposed to avoid Fred and George now." Bree mumbled the last part, but Ron seemed to catch it.

"Why are you avoiding them? They seem concerned about you, and they won't tell anyone why."

Bree had been dreading this happening, but had an answer ready for when it came. "Well we sort of . . . got into a . . . err . . . fight. And I don't want to talk to them right now because I'm still angry with them."

Ron, who wasn't interested in the matter anymore nodded and said, "Oh." With a little sigh, then his face brightened up as he said, "Well do you wanna go for a walk around the school? Curfew's not for another hour, you know."

"Sure, just let me get something real quick." Ron nodded and Bree raced up the stairs to the girl's dormitory to grab her favorite soft, yellow sweatshirt Parvati had given her off her bed.

Bree wasn't paying attention to the rest of the room when she entered to get the sweatshirt, but when she finally found it she noticed Parvati crying on her own red and gold four-poster bed. Bree hurried over and gave her a tentative hug.

"What's wrong, Parvati?" She asked, surprised at how genuinely worried she sounded about the girl.

Parvati sniffled and tearily replied, "M - m - my mum j - just sent me a - an owl and . . . and . . ." She broke into a horrible wail and Bree hugged her tighter. Suddenly she noticed something she would have never expected from a girl like Parvati. Something that, up until now, she thought was beneath other witches and wizards. Parvati must be new at this. She did it too deep.

"Parvati! You did it too deep! You can die that way! Do you want to die?!" Parvati's face turned whiter then it already was from the loss of blood and she tried to cover her sleeves.

"D - don't tell anyone! I didn't m - mean to do it th - that deep. I c - can't let people see it!" She pulled down her sleeves, but by now blood was seeping through the thin pink fabric.

"No! Parvati! We've got to take you to the hospital wing quick! Don't worry about the other people. They won't know if you change your sweatshirt and go quickly through the common room!"

"B - but I don't want t - to get in trouble. M - madame Pomfrey will b - be mad. She doesn't like when p - people are hurt. Besides, how would y - you know if it's too d - deep or not?"

Bree hesitated before deciding that she didn't want Parvati to die and pulled up her own sweatshirt's sleeves. Parvati gasped loudly and Bree said, "That's how I know. I'm not going into details but something happened one time and I did it just as deep as you did. I almost died, Parvati! Now hurry up, please!"

Parvati whimpered as the sweatshirt's cuff passed over the cut and pulled on a looser sweatshirt over her head. Bree grabbed her good hand and quickly pulled her down the stairs.

Ron stood up to go and Bree quickly yelled over to him, "Parvati's sick. I'm sorry, but I have to take her to the hospital wing right now. Perhaps we can go for a walk tomorrow?"

As Bree climbed through the portrait hole with Parvati Ron ran after her yelling, "Wait, Bree! What if I just wait outside the hospital wing for the two of you? How's that sound?"

Bree had no time to argue so she quickly agreed and pulled Parvati along. She was scared, and Parvati was cold. Too cold. When she finally got to the hospital wing Parvati's cut had bled through the second sweatshirt.

"Madame Pomfrey! Hurry! It's Parvati!" Bree called immediately when she was within earshot of the nurse. "Stay here, Ron." She murmured when the nurse hurried out of her sleeping quarters.

"What's wrong, dears? Where does it hur . . ." Madame Pomfrey broke off when she saw Parvati's arm. She quickly lay Parvati down on the nearest bed and cleaned the badly inflicted wound with a stick brown liquid. "Breanna, dear?"

Bree continued staring at the work Madame Pomfrey was doing on Parvati's arm looked up slightly and mumbled a, "Yeah?"

"Would you go to Professor Snape's dungeons quickly? We need a blood-replenishing potion fast or your friend might not be okay. You can bring Ronald out there with you." She said while pointing towards the doorway in which Ron had snuck to watch what was happening. Bree nodded and hurried out of the room, grabbing Ron's arm.

"Bree? Bree, what happened to her? She's not sick. She's . . . hurt. Badly. How did that happen?"

"None of your business, Ron. I promised her I wouldn't tell if she wouldn't tell. . . ." She hadn't meant to let the end part out, but Ron had heard it anyways.

"Won't tell what?"

"Nothing, Ron."

"No, please tell me. Does it have something to do with what Fred and George are worried about? Does everyone but me know what's going on with you? I though we were friends!"

"No, Ron! I had to tell Parvati a pretend secret to get he to go with the hospital wing with me. It's not true, but I told her that I cut before and that she could die from what she did. . . . Which she could, she just doesn't need to know that I was lying when I said that I cut. And Fred and George are mad at me because I wouldn't go swimming with them when we went down to the lake that night. Your brothers are idiots, you know."

"Yeah, I know." He mumbled, clearly not convinced that she was telling him the truth.

"C'mon! There's the door to Professor Snape's dungeons. Let's get this over-with."

Bree knocked on the elegant maple door twice and stepped back. When Snape opened the door he looked at Bree and Ron without emotion.

"What is it that you want, Breanna, Weasley?"

"Sir, Madame Pomfrey sent us for a blood replenishing potion! Parvati, Sir. She's so cold, and pale. She's lost so much. Help me please!"

Bree begged with her eyes and face for him to put their differences beside them to help Parvati. And he turned back into his quarters, leaving the door ajar.

"No! Please, Sir! Parvati will die if we don't get it for her. Please, Professor!" She sighed in relief when the Professor returned with what was clearly a potion in his hand. "Oh thank you, Sir! You can go back to hating me as soon as we get the potion to Parvati."

"I don't hate you, Lily!" He didn't notice his mistake until he saw that Bree had stopped in the middle of the hallway. "What is it?"

"You . . . you called me Lily. That was my mother's name, wasn't it? Did you know her? Were you friends? Best friends? Can you tell me all about her?"

Snape looked shocked for a nano-second then composed his face into a scowl. "Let's just get this up to your Parvati, shall we?"

Bree nodded quickly and continued up to the hospital wing with Snape and Ron hot on her heels.

Her mind was reeling. Snape had called her Lily. He didn't even answer he questions. He must have known her mother! Maybe they had gotten in a fight before Lily was killed. Maybe Lily didn't invite Snape to her wedding. Or maybe Snape was mad because Lily didn't marry him! Bree couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a family. Maybe if her mother had married Professor Snape Bree would have a father at least. She mentally pictured her mother in a beautiful wedding dress standing next to a tuxedo-clad Snape with Bree in between them and smiled, completely unaware of Snape's own smile behind her.

When they got to the hospital wing Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey had an urgently whispered conversation with much motioning towards Bree, Ron and the sleeping Parvati. Bree tentatively reached out towards Parvati, to see if she was warm yet. When she felt Parvati's faint pulse against her cold skin she pulled all Parvati's blankets up to her chin and put another one off the bed her and Ron were sitting on over her as well.

Finally Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey turned to the two of them.

"How did this happen?" Madame Pomfrey demanded, clearly talking about Parvati.

"I don't know. I came up to the dormitory and she was bleeding pretty bad, but wouldn't tell me what had happened. I was more concerned with getting her up here then asking her what happened, you know?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed and nodded. "Yes, I know, dear. It's all right, but it's almost curfew, I'd recommend that you two get back to your common room. Now."

"Okay. We'll leave right now. But as soon as she's okay tell her to see me, okay?"

The nurse smiled and shooed Bree and Ron out of the hospital wing. Professor Snape followed them silently.

"Breanna."

Bree jumped when Professor Snape tapped her on the shoulder. She was bracing herself for the worst a stuttered, "Y - y - yeah?"

"You were correct in thinking that I knew your mother."

Bree smiled as wide as her face would allow, "Oh, really, Sir? Would you tell me all about her? All I know is that she was some kind of freak. Only I think Aunt Petunia said that because she was a witch. Was she a good witch? The best?"

"Petunia . . . your mother's sister?"

"Yeah, she's no good. She's rotten, but she gave me a picture of my mum once. See?" Bree reached into her pocket and held out the picture of her mother to Snape.

"Very well. Come by my office tomorrow and I will answer you your questions about your mother. Agreed?"

"Yes, Sir! Thanks so much, Sir! I really appreciate it."

With that Snape stalked off back towards the dungeons. Bree turned to Ron who appeared to be gaping at her for an unknown reason. It was starting to make her self-conscious.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no. But did you just have an entire conversation with Snape and not get a detention?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"I just didn't know that that was even close to being possible."

Bree laughed and said, "Well apparently, it is."

As they turned the corner to the staircases they saw Draco Malfoy standing there.

"Bree!" He shouted gleefully when he saw her coming. "I was hoping you might be here. Would you talk to me please?"

"What, Draco? What could you want now?" She snapped unconversationably.

"I . . . well I was just going to say sorry for getting you into trouble during flying lessons. Let me make it up to you. Here. This note explains everything." He shoved the note into Bree's hand and went, almost running, to the dungeons.

"Well, c'mon then, Bree. What's the slimy git got to say?"

Bree carefully unfolded the note and began reading out loud. " 'Dear Bree, I know that Weasel is probably reading this with you. Wait, no, I'm not going to insult your friends. You don't like that, I almost forgot. Well, here goes nothing. I was wondering if you would please meet me in the trophy room tonight at midnight. I swear that it's not an ambush. Crabbe and Goyle won't even be coming. You can bring Wes . . . Ron if you want to, but please come. I really want to talk to you. Love, Draco.' Wow. What do you think I should do, Ron?"

"Whatever you do, I'm going with you. I don't trust him no matter what his little notes say."

Bree sighed and said, "I knew you were going to say that. But we should get back to the common room regardless. C'mon, lets go."

Bree dragged Ron back to the Fat Lady who awoke angrily and let them into the common room after a stern talking to about waking her up. She definitely wouldn't like them when they snuck out at midnight tonight.

It was around ten o'clock when Ron finally excused himself to bed. Bree stayed in the common room, curled up in her favorite red armchair near the fireplace and wasn't aware of falling asleep until someone was shaking her awake near eleven. Or was it two some ones?

"Whddaywan?" She mumbled inaudibly to the intruder.

"Bree, wake up. We know you've been avoiding us but we need to talk."

Bree snapped awake at the sound of George's voice and glared at the twins. "Go away. There's nothing to talk about. Just leave me alone."

"No, Bree!" Fred started. "We do need to talk about this. It's serious."

"No it's not. I'm fine."

"You're a rotten liar. Isn't she, Fred?"

"That she is my brother. That she is."

"Shut up! Just shut up the two of you! There's nothing to talk about, just don't tell anyone what you've seen!"

"We weren't planning on it, Breanna! But if you keep up what you're doing we'll set Madame Pomfrey on you and tell her exactly who's been doing it."

Bree glared at George when he called her Breanna. She hated that name. Bree was much more . . . her. "Don't call me Breanna. And if you tell Madame Pomfrey on me I swear to Merlin that I will never, ever even think of speaking to you again."

The twins smiled mischievously and answered in unison. "So you did miss us, then?"

Fred continued. "You missed us a lot?"

"More then a lot?"

"Yeah, I missed you guys, but I don't think that that's quite the point, now is it?"

"Well, no. But we just want to help." George said in a quieter-then-usual voice.

Bree felt guilty for yelling at the twins when they truly wanted to help her. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you guys. I promise to explain everything to you tomorrow. At the lake during lunch. Okay?"

Fred and George looked at each other, hesitating slightly before agreeing. Then Fred's face broke into a huge smile and said excitedly, "By the way, Wood told us about you being on the Quidditch team."

"We're beaters, you see."

"And beaters do . . . what exactly?"

"Our job is to make sure that the bludgers don't kill you."

"Don't worry, though. We won't let that happen anytime soon."

Bree smiled despite herself. "Well I'll have to hold you two to that, now won't I?"

"That you will, young one. Blimey, though. How good are you exactly? When Wood told us the news he was practically skipping with glee."

"I don't know how good I am. Why don't you come with me to my training when it starts?"

George opened his mouth to answer but instead Ron's voice rang out. "Oy! And why didn't you invite me to go with you, hmmm? Am I not good enough for you anymore, because if I'm not please let me know."

Bree laughed again and said, "You're more then welcome to tag along too. I'll have my own Weasley cheerleading team."

"Cheerleading?" Fred asked curiously.

"It's a muggle thing."

"Ahh, I'll ask Dad about it."

"Is he a muggle?"

"Well, no, but he does love muggles. He finds them strangely fascinating." Ron said with a look daring Bree to laugh.

Bree nodded and said, "Oh yes, I agree with your father. Muggles can be quite interesting. But who knows what time it is? Ron and I are supposed to be in the trophy room around midnight and I don't want to be too late."

"I do! It's quarter of twelve." George answered.

"Well lets get going then, Ron!" Bree exclaimed. She hadn't thought it was that late yet.

"You can't seriously be sneaking out, Breanna!" Bree jumped when the voice of Hermione came down the stairs.

"Yes, actually, I am. And I don't see how it's any of your business if I am, anyways."

"It's my business because I'm a Gryffindor and if you two get yourselves caught you'll lose us all our points."

"Shut up, Hermione!" Ron practically yelled at her.

"Ron! Be quiet. Just ignore her, we're going to be late if we don't get going." With that Bree and Ron climbed out the portrait hole, Hermione followed.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor? Do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup! And you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells!"

Bree couldn't believe anyone could try to interfere this much. "Shut it, Hermione! Leave us alone."

Hermione huffed. "Fine! But don't expect me to fix your hair anymore!"

"ARGH! Fine! Just go back to bed, would you?!"

Hermione turned to go back to the common room, only to find the Fat Lady's portrait to be empty. Bree and Ron were already half way down the corridor when she caught up to them. "Wait! I'm coming with you."

Ron glared at her. "Oh no you are not. You can just wait here."

"And what? Wait for Filtch to come and find me? I don't think so. If we get caught I'll tell them the truth. That I was trying to stop you two from sneaking out and you can back me up."

"You are unbelievable! Why should we back you up when it'll just get us into trouble? Can you believe her, Bree?"

"Yes, yes I can, actually. She wouldn't want her precious goodie-two-shoes reputation to be ruined, now would she?"

Hermione cut in before Ron could answer. "No, I don't want my slate to be ruined just because the two of you are so thick-headed you don't care about getting Gryffindor in trouble. Oh!" Hermione had suddenly tripped over a large lump on the floor. "Neville?"

"Oh, good you'll help me, Hermione! What's the password? I can't remember it to get in."

Bree answered for her and said, "Shhhh! Neville, you've got to keep quiet! And the password won't do you any good. The Fat Lady's left, see?" She pointed down the hall to the empty portrait. "But anyways, Neville, we've got somewhere to be so . . ."

"No! Don't leave me, please!"

Ron moaned loudly and said, "We don't have time for this. Just let him come but we've got to hurry up!"

"Fine, Neville, Hermione, you can tag along, but keep quiet!"

The four of them ran silently down the hallways to the trophy room. When they arrived, Draco wasn't there yet. The glass trophy cases sparkled where the moonlight hit them. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room.

"He's late, Bree. Maybe it's a trap." Ron whispered in her ear.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Bree had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak . . . and it wasn't Draco.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner. Got it out of the Malfoy boy when I caught him a sneaking around the castle tonight." It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris.

Bree's eyes widened when she heard this and she waved crazily for the other three to follow her.

"They're in here somewhere." They heard him mutter. "Probably hiding."

"This way!" Bree whispered to the other three. They could hear Filtch getting nearer and nearer as they crept along a long gallery of suits of armor. Suddenly Neville let out a squeal and tripped over a suit of armor, bringing Ron down with him. The noise was enough to wake up the entire school.

Bree yelled, "RUN!" And started running down the halls, refusing to look back to see if Filtch was behind them or not. Bree was in the lead with the other three hot on her heels. Suddenly they came to a tapestry, Bree ripped it aside and found a hidden passage way behind it, ran down it and cam eout near their Charm's classroom, which was miles away from the trophy room.

"I think we lost him." Ron panted.

Hermione glared at Bree, clutching a stitch in her chest and said, "I . . . told . . . you. I told you not to sneak out. What did I say?"

"Shut up, Hermione. We've go to get back to the common room. As fast as we can."

Ron nodded his head fervently in agreement and panted, "Let's go."

But it clearly wasn't going to be a easy as they had hoped it to be. The four of them hadn't taken ten steps when Peeves shot out of a near-by classroom, and catching sight of the four of them he let out a horrible cackle.

"Oh - ho - ho. What have we here? Little firsties out of bed, eh? Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't tell on us, Peeves!" Ron exclaimed, taking a swipe at Peeves.

This was clearly a bad idea since as soon as Ron did so Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves the four first years ran for their lives to the end of the corridor, where they slammed into a locked door.

"Oh, now we've done it." Ron moaned as they pushed at the door as Filtch's footsteps got closer and closer to Peeves's yelling.

"Move!" Hermione snarled. She whipped out her wand a shouted, "_Alohamora_!"

The door swung open and they piled in, slamming the door shut behind them. Bree pressed her ear to the door, listening hard.

"What way did they go, Peeves? Where did the students go?" The old man panted.

"Say please. I won't say nothing unless you say please, Filtchie."

"Oh all right . . . please!"

Peeves cackled gleefully and yelled, "NOTHING! Ha haaaa! I told you I wouldn't say nothing unless you said please!"

Peeves zoomed away loudly, leaving a cursing Filtch in his wake.

"Filtch thinks the door's still locked." Bree whispered to Ron, Hermione and Neville. "I think we'll be alright. Get off me, Neville!" Ever since they had entered the room Neville had been insistently pulling on her sleeve. "What do you want!?"

Bree turned around and saw exactly what Neville was trying to tell her. They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking right into the eyes of a monsterous three-headed dog. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Bree knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. Bree groped for the doorknob. Between Filch and death, she'd take Filch.

They all fell backward, slammed the door shut behind them and ran, as fast as they could to the Gryffindor tower.

They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" She asked, looking at their robes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind! Pigsnout, pigsnout!" Bree yelled hurridely and the portrait swung open. All four of them piled through the portrait hole and collapsed into armchairs infront of the dying fire.

It was a while before anyone spoke. Though Bree rather thought that Neville looked like he would never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing? Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron asked finally.

Hermione, who had gotten both her breath and her temper back, replied, "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"Standing on!" Ron exclaimed. "Sorry, but I was a bit occupied with it's heads!"

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and said, "It was standing on a trap-door! It's obviously gaurding something!" She stood up and glared at them. "I hope you're happy with yourselves. We could have gotten killed tonight. Or worse. . . . Expelled. Now if you don't mind I'm going to bed. Coming, Breanna?"

Bree sighed and said, "Yeah, I suppose. 'Night you two." And followed Hermione up the stairs. As she got into night clothes she though of what Hermione had said. The dog was guarding something. Hadn't Hagrid told her that Gringotts was the safest place in the world . . . except Hogwarts.

It looked liked Bree knew where the little package from vault 713 was. Bree fell into a restless sleep almost as soon as her head hit her pillow. She dreamt of three-headed dogs, tiny packages and goblins.

**A/N: Haha, well the ending was kind of out of the book but everything else? 100 origional. Mhhmm, so I asked for 25 reviews last night and I ended up with 31. That's awesome. Read and review, please. I want 35 now. I'm obsessive-compulsive that way.**

**PS: This was the longest chapter yet and over 3/4 of it was all mine. I'm really proud of that.**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Yes, finally this is getting (kind of) popular. It's my favorite fanfiction I've written by far. And I'm getting better at making the chapters longer. (Can't argue with that, last one was over 4,000 words long.) Anyways, here's the next one. Sorry it took so long to get out but I was at my friend's beach house for two days and then school started, weekend plans began, and I didn't really feel much like writing until now.**

Bree couldn't believe it that morning when Draco came up to her, trying to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Bree! Filch caught me and I had to tell him what I had been up to or he would have given me an even worse punishment. I hope you didn't get into any trouble. And I really hope you can forgive me."

Bree looked at him in disgust. "Likely story. You have one more chance before I decide to hate you forever. Use it wisely." And with that she stalked off toward the Gryffindor table to sit between Ron and George, snapping at George when he asked if she still remembered her promise to meet them by the lake or not. "What do I look like? An idiot who can't remember something she said yesterday? I said I'd be there and I'll be there so don't worry about it."

Taking in her disgruntled expression he backed off with a quick, "Just checking, it was kind of late."

Bree's features visibly relaxed and she immediately felt guilty for snapping at her favorite twin. "Look, I'm sorry. Draco's just got me riled up this morning." She turned to Ron. "So what do you reckon? Was Hermione lying when she said the dog was on a trap door?"

He laughed, "Hermione? Lie? I don't think so. But the more important question here would be, what was it hiding under the trap door?"

"Well it's got to be either really valuable or really dangerous."

"Or both." Neville piped up.

But all Bree and Ron knew about the mysterious thing the giant dog was guarding was that it was about two inches long and, well, mysterious.

Hermione snubbed Bree all day, which meant that her hair was a long, red mess. Lavender had tried to help her fix it, but Hermione was the only one in the dormitory who knew the right spells.

Ron saw Hermione's silence as a blessing. Though he spent most of the day plotting revenge on Draco. Bree, somehow didn't like this idea.

As the regular morning owls came in everyone's attention was drawn at once to a long, thin package, carried by six owls. Bree was just as interested as everyone else was to see what was in this package and looked around, amazed when the owls dropped it onto her plate, spilling cornflakes everywhere. The first six owls had hardly fluttered away when a seventh owl, this time holding a letter, landed in Ron's cereal, sticking it's leg out to Bree who quickly untied the note and ripped it open.

It was lucky that Bree had chosen to open the letter first as it read, "DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE! It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everyone to know you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. You are to meet Oliver Wood down at the Quidditch Pitch at seven o'clock for your first session of training. -Professor McGonagall."

Bree handed the note to Ron trying, without success, to hide her gleeful smile when Ron moaned enviously, "A Nimbus Two Thousand. I've never even touched one."

They hurried out of the hall, eager to get a glimpse at the broom before their classes started. That plan was scratched when they ran into Draco, Crabbe and Goyle halfway across the entrance hall.

Draco was eying Bree's parcel with a glimmer of jealousy and fear in his eyes. "That's a broomstick. You'll get into trouble if you get caught." When Crabbe and Goyle looked at him funny he quickly tacked on, "Hope my tongue doesn't accidentally . . . slip."

Bree glared at Draco's evil little friends. But before she could retort Ron kicked in, "It's not any old broomstick! It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy? A Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Bree, clearly thinking she was happy with his taunting Draco. "Comet's may look pretty, but they're no where near as good as a Nimbus."

"Shhhh, Ron!" Bree whispered, but it was too late, Draco had heard.

"As if you would know, Weasel. You're whole family couldn't afford half a twig."

Before Ron could take it any further Professor Flitwick appeared at Draco's side. "Not arguing, I hope, are we?"

Crabbe and Goyle, slow as they looked, were fastest to speak. "Breanna Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor!"

"Ahh, yes. That's right. Professor McGonagall told me all about the special conditions. And what model is it?"

Bree smirked at Crabbe and Goyle while replying, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand, sir. It's really thanks to Draco here that I got it. If he hadn't stolen Neville's rememberall I wouldn't have learnt I could fly so well in the first place."

Bree and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Crabbe, Goyle and Draco's confusion.

"So now Draco thinks he's responsible for getting you a broomstick and spot on the team, does he?"

"Well it's true. Like I said to Professor Flitwick, if he hadn't stolen Neville's rememberall I wouldn't be on the team at all."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules, do you?" Bree heard an angry voice yell from up a flight of stairs. It was Hermione, glaring disapprovingly at the package she clutched.

"Shut up, Hermione!" Bree snapped. "I though you weren't talking to us."

"Oh yes, don't stop now, it was just getting good." Ron added in a mock cheery voice.

Hermione glared at him for a second and then sharply turned away with her nose in the air.

Bree had trouble concentrating on her classes all morning. Her mind kept wandering to lunch, and what she should tell Fred and George . . . and how much of it she should tell them. Then her mind would wander upstairs to the dormitory where her broom was hidden safely under her bed, and out to the Quidditch Pitch, where she would learn to play tonight.

When lunch finally rolled around Bree's nerves were taking over and she felt herself going white. Apparently, Ron noticed too.

"Bree? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

She smiled weakly and shakily replied, "No, no. I just get like this when I'm nervous."

Ron gave her a hug for good luck at the entrance hall and she turned to meet the twins.

**A/N: Hey, sorry to leave you hanging like that, but I set it up for a really long chapter. Plus I've got tons of school work to do, and I've got to go buy colored ink and everything has just been so hectic I haven't been able to make a new chapter in forever. Well hope you liked it minus the fact that it's short. Review please. (:**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Haha, sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out. I've been adjusting to high school and then I broke a bone in my thumb so it's all queer to type with and blah blah blah. Hope you like the chapter, even if it is kind of short. (:**

When Bree reached the beech tree by the lake Fred and George were already there waiting for her. When she approached George looked up and smiled widely. "Hey Bree! We've been waiting for you."

Bree smiled back tentatively and replied, "Yeah, sorry. I got held up in all the lunch traffic. How did you guys get here so quickly anyways?"

The twins smiled mischievously at each other and replied in unison, "We skipped."

Bree laughed and leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes, letting the rays of early autumn sunshine hit her face. When she finally opened them she saw George staring at her.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

George laughed gently. "No, no. That's not it at all. You just looked . . . no, never mind. You'll laugh at me."

She turned to him fully and looked straight into his eyes. "I won't laugh. I promise."

He blushed slightly and said, "Well . . . alright, I was just thinking of how pretty you looked in the sun."

Before Bree could answer Fred interrupted. "Hello, still here. And still waiting for Bree's explanation as well."

"Oh, right you are brother. Clever, Bree. Very clever, but with two of us here you've no hope of distracting me by looking beautiful in the sun."

Bree blushed and replied, "Would you like to hear my story or should I just let you shower me with compliments?"

"Well as much as I would love to shower you with compliments some more I don't think that Fred here wouldn't appreciate that too much, so on with the stories. And when I say stories, I mean the whole thing. And nothing cut out either. We can handle the truth.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright, I suppose I should begin with where I slept. But two conditions. One, you cannot repeat any of this information to anyone at anytime. I'll tell others when I'm ready. Agreed?" They both nodded and Bree went on. "Okay, and my second condition is for you to not interrupt me while I tell my story. It's hard enough for me to tell you as it is without interruptions along the way." The twins nodded again and motioned for her to continue.

Bree took a deep breath and began her story, choosing not to edit for their sake. "Alright, well first off, my bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs, and as far as I know it still is. Also, my life wasn't one of hugs and kisses. It wasn't exactly what you would call normal either. And no matter what I say, you won't tell a soul. No matter how horrible, gruesome, or whatever else you can think of, you are not to tell anyone at all."

George rolled his eyes and said in an exasperated voice, "Yes, yes. We know! Now please get on with your story for Merlin's sake!"

Bree nodded and continued. "Well as I said, I've lived in a cupboard ever since I've lived with the Dursleys. They always prided themselves on being so normal . . . so perfect. They pretended that my Aunt Petunia didn't ever have a sister named Lily who was a witch, and when I came along I ruined all hope of their dream to forget that another world ever existed. I, in essence, ruined their lives. Or at least that's what I've been told since I can remember. When I was younger they just used to make me do their household chores. You know, laundry, cooking, cleaning, getting the mail. Stuff like that. But as I got older, and started showing the first signs of what I now know was magic, my uncle wanted to beat it out of me. Uncle Vernon is determined that the harder he hits, the less magic I'll be able to perform until I'm incapable of doing any magic at all. My aunt used to be able to hold him off, but she couldn't anymore after I turned nine. A week after my ninth birthday I learned what abuse was. And let me tell you, it's not good at all."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to let her words truly sink in. When it looked as though it had she continued. "During the Christmas holidays I learned more about abuse, but there was something more I learned about, too. I learned that shedding my own blood could make me feel numb. But when the Easter holidays rolled around and the beatings got continually worse I learned just how deep is too deep. I had to go to a hospital, and I almost died. There were many, many questions about me. Uncle Vernon blamed me for the cutting. It was his fault, but he wouldn't honestly say that it was. When I got back form the hospital I got worse and worse beatings. Some were so bad that Aunt Petunia wouldn't even let me go to school the next day for fear of her husband being found out."

Bree glanced at Fred and George's faces to read their reactions so far. They looked utterly horrified at what she was saying, but now that she had the chance to tell someone her whole story, and how this shy girl came to be, Bree was going to take it without regrets. "When I turned ten I was an expert at cutting. Just deep enough to num the pain away, but shallow enough to keep me alive. I've never had to go back to the hospital for cutting again. And whenever Uncle Vernon would break a bone, it would mysteriously heal over-night. I never knew it was magic, though. Never until now. I think my . . . guardians realized the Uncle Vernon's method wasn't working. He didn't care anymore, though. I was cutting everyday, several times a day if things got real bad. Now, to make a long story short, I turned eleven, got my letter from Hogwarts and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shied away from me, like they were scared. I over-heard them talk about me being a witch with magical powers, and so did their son Dudley. Uncle Vernon kept burning my letters, but more and more would come. We ended up fleeing the house because the living room was flooded with the strange letters. After that Hagrid found us and brought me to the world where I belong. That's my whole story, or at least the part you wanted to hear."

It was a few moments before anyone said anything but finally George opened his mouth. "Bree. I'm . . . I'm so sorry. I never knew what a dreadful life you had. We're going to get you out of their house as soon as we can this summer, aren't we Fred?"

"Yes, of course we're going to. Cross my heart."

Bree smiled. "Well then, I need to get to my next class with Ron. We'll talk more later. Bye."

"See you, Bree."

**A/N: Alright, it was short and not too good. Whatever. I did my best with what little time I have. Plus I have boyfriend issues I need to work out. But read and review. (:**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know. I haven't updated in forever. But here's the deal, I have some school work I need to get cracking on, and it seems like people are losing interest, or that people are adding me to their alert lists, but not even taking the time to review, or just leave a little, "good story" note. I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the time to review when you add me to your favorites/alerts. Thank you, now onto the next chapter!**

Bree and Ron bolted up to the Gryffindor tower after scarfing down dinner that night, both eager to further inspect Bree's new Nimbus Two-Thousand.

"Wow." Ron sighed with Bree after all the ugly, brown paper was taken off the gorgeous broomstick. Even Bree, who had no idea which brooms were the good ones, knew that she had a really excellent one. It was sleek and shiny with a deep, mahogany handle, not a twig out of place and the words Nimbus Two-Thousand written in gold at the top of the handle.

As seven o'clock drew closer Bree grew more and more restless until finally Ron told her to just go to the Quidditch Pitch earlier then Oliver was expecting her.

When Bree arrived she was amazed by the simple complexity of the stands alone. There were hundreds of seats raised high above the ground all around the Pitch. At either end of the field itself were three large, golden poles with hoops on the end. Bree was instantly reminded of those plastic sticks she had so often seen Dudley and other muggle children blow bubbles through, apart from the fact that they were fifty feet in the air.

Too eager to get on her broomstick and fly again to wait for Oliver to show up Bree mounted her Nimbus Two-Thousand and kicked off the ground, circling the Pitch until she noticed that Oliver had showed up and was watching her with an amused look on his face.

"Hey Breanna! Come down here!" Oliver shouted up to her. When she touched back down in front of him he gave her another amused smile.

"What?" She asked nervously which just caused his smile to widen.

"Nothing, you just remind me so much of myself when I first learnt how to fly."

It was Bree's turn to act amused. "So you're saying that I remind you of a guy?"

He laughed a slight, teasing laugh. "No, no, no. Not of a guy, just of a sport-obsessed girl." Bree giggled a little bit.

"So are we going to get this training going or not, Oliver?"

"I suppose we really ought to get started." He replied with the same amused smile.

Finally Bree noticed a large, wooden crate that Oliver had brought with him. "What's in the crate?" She asked, pointedly looking at the box, which had suddenly begun to shake.

Oliver smiled mischievously and opened the crate to reveal four balls inside and began to explain what they were and who would use them. The largest, red one was called a Quaffle and was used by the Chasers to score points for their team. The Keeper, which was played by Oliver himself, was supposed to protect the three golden hoops from the other team getting the Quaffle in. Then there were the two Bludgers that were identical balls that flew around the Pitch and tried to knock the players off their brooms. These balls were used by the two Beaters who flew around with heavy, wooden bats and would hit the Blugders in the direction of the other team. The Gryffindor Beaters were Fred and George. The last of the four balls, and the smallest was the Golden Snitch. It was Bree's job, as Seeker, to catch the Snitch before the other teams Seeker could. If she caught the ball she would win an extra hundred and fifty points for her team. Oliver also explained that the game of Quidditch could only be ended when the Seeker caught the Snitch. The longest-held record for a game was three months.

After Oliver was done explaining all the rules and regulations of Quidditch to Bree he took a breath. "So do you have any questions?" Bree shook her head silently; still trying to memorize all the information he had just given her. "Alright. Well we won't practice with the Snitch yet. It's too dark and I don't want to risk losing it. For now we'll just practice with these."

Oliver held up three ordinary looking golf-balls and in a few moments him and Bree were in the air, Oliver throwing the golf-balls as hard as he could in every direction, and Bree trying her very hardest to catch every last one of them. After half an hour of training night had truly fallen so they weren't able to carry on any longer. But Bree had caught ever last one of the golf-balls, which Oliver was simply ecstatic about.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year for sure!" Oliver exclaimed happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing those silly dragons."

Bree returned to the common room feeling happier then she had in a long time and quickly told Ron the gist of what had happened at practice before heading up to her dormitory to soak her sore muscles and sink into a deep sleep.

**A/N: Yeah, so this was going to be way longer then it turned out to be, but I'm really, truly tired and I figured that a short chapter was better then no chapter at all, right? Well reviews please. The more I get, the more inclined I'll be to update by the end of the week with the nice, long chapter I've got half written.**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers. I really do appreciate it and do my best to reply back to every single one of them. (Even if it's just to say thanks for reviewing.) Ummm, so yeah thanks tons and I'm really, truly trying to get the chapters out quicker, even if that means that they're slightly shorter then they have been. But something is better then nothing in my opinion.**

"Bree! Bree, please wait!" A blond haired, gray-eyed boy shouted down the deserted corridor to a quickly moving red haired, hazel-eyed girl.

The girl turned around, her long hair whipping wildly around behind her. "No! No, Draco. I'm tired of listening to your explanations! I'm tired of you insulting my friends. I'm tired of you! Why can't you comprehend that I do not want you?" Bree emphasized the last four words sharply, feeling a bit bad about it when Draco flinched.

"S . . . sorry, Breanna. I didn't mean . . . I just . . . no, I'll just leave you alone now. Sorry to have bothered you." Draco's voice cracked at the end of his sentence and his normally cold, gray eyes were soft and watery.

"Draco, I didn't . . ." She started.

"No! I get it, you don't want me. I'll just have to try harder, but I'll leave you alone for now, all right? By the way, I snuck out and saw the Gryffindor team practicing last night and you're a truly excellent seeker. I've got to go." Then he turned on his heel and stalked back down the hall, not letting Bree see his silent tears. After he rounded the far corner Bree let out the breath she had been holding in the entire time in a large gasp and slid down the wall, her body shaking in the pale moonlight with tearless sobs. She fell asleep there, not caring if anyone caught her. Well anyone but Peeves, Filtch or the Bloody Baron. She had just hurt one of her first friends from her new world and she wasn't sure if the damage she had just done was going to be easily repaired with an 'I'm sorry' and a hug.

* * *

"Bree? Bree, wake up." A voice whispered to her in the darkness.

She sat upright a bit more and looked around confused. Hadn't there been moonlight when she had fallen asleep out here? "Who . . . who's there?" She called tentatively into the darkness.

Suddenly the lights came on and showed Bree that she was no longer in Hogwarts, but rather in a strange room with a black haired man staring down at her with compassion in his eyes. "Who are you?" Bree asked the man, glaring at him like he was going to do something bad to her.

The man looked shocked for a moment and then burst out laughing, causing Bree to glare even more. It wasn't an evil laugh or anything, it just sounded strangely familiar. The man held out his hand and Bree tentatively took it, allowing him to help her up from the floor. The man was still laughing when he finally introduced himself. "Hello, Breanna. My name is James. James Potter."

Bree stared at the strange man for a second or two before really taking in what he had just said. Then it was her turn to laugh. "Don't mock me, man. I may not look too smart but I'm smarter then that. James Potter, my father, is dead."

"No. I am dead, but I was allowed the privilege to visit you in your dreams." Without knowing why, Bree knew that this was the truth.

"Why didn't Mum come too, then?" Bree frantically looked around the cramped room for any sign of the mother she was told she looked so much like. Finally, after scanning the room several times realization hit. "She's not here. She doesn't want me."

James dropped down to his knees and looked up into his daughter's eyes. "Believe me, I will be getting hell for taking the spot she so desperately wanted to fill. But, me being a Marauder and all I just had to make sure my daughter was following in my lovely footsteps. Which, from the looks of where you're sleeping right now is already happening. So tell me. What house did you get in? And has Dumbledore given you my cloak yet? He was supposed to long ago but you're not wearing it."

"I got Gryffindor house, and no. Professor Dumbledore hasn't given me any kind of cloak. But wait . . ." Bree thought carefully of her next words.

"Yes, Bree-bear?" Bree-bear. That made her smile.

"Well you said that I was asleep. So this is happening inside my head, which means it must not be real, right?"

Her father smiled like he was entertained by this question. "Silly Bree. Just because something is only happening in your head that doesn't mean it's not true."

"But . . ."

Suddenly James' face went strangely blank and when he turned back to his daughter he look immensely sad. "Breanna, you need to go wake up now. Filtch is going to find you unless you wake up and hide behind the red and gold tapestry of a dragon, okay?" When Bree nodded he smiled a pulled her into a warm embrace. "Remember, your mother and I are always watching over you and we love you very much. Your mother will come next time. Look forward to it my little daughter."

With that the dream faded away and Bree awoke with a jolt to hear footsteps nearing the corner. She immediately looked around for the tapestry her father had told her about and slipped behind it to find a secret passage just before Filtch's footsteps rounded the corner.

**A/N: All right, I really liked the dream part, but I don't know about you. Let me know? Yeah, I think you should. Thanks.**


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: I know some of you think it's a bad idea for Bree to meet her parents in her dreams, but I just thought it sounded like a cool idea. Haha, I'm probably not gonna do it again, it's up to you, really. Leave me your opinion.**

After Bree's dream of meeting James she didn't have time to really tell anyone about it. In fact, she had been so busy with Quidditch practice three times a week on top of her homework that she found it hard to believe that she had been at Hogwarts for two months already. The castle felt more like a home then the Dursley's house ever had. And the Gryffindor's were like her family. A family she had never had the chance to experience before. Bree's lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they awoke to the sweet smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the halls. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in charms that he thought they were ready to make objects fly. It was something they had all been dying to do since they had seen him make Neville's toad, Trevor, fly across the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Bree was partnered with Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief because Neville had been trying to catch her eye). Ron, however was partnered with Hermione Granger. Bree was finding it hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione were angrier abut this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since Bree's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from atop his pile of books. "And dictation is of ut-most importance as well."

It was very difficult. Bree and Seamus swished and flicked, but their feather just sat lying on the desk. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded the feather with his wand and caught fire to it, which Bree had to put out with her hat.

Bree glanced over to Ron and Hermione's table to see that he wasn't having much luck either.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms around like strangely shaped bird wings.

"You're saying it all wrong," Bree heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever!" Ron snarled.

"Alright, then. Watch." Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robes, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The entire class abandoned all their attempts at their own feathers to watch as Hermione made her own rise about four feet above her and Ron's desk and hover.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "See here everyone! Miss Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Bree as herself, Ron, Dean and Seamus pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. "

Someone knocked into Bree as they hurried past her. She was just about to yell at them for being so rude when she caught sight of their face. It was Hermione, and even more startilin was to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you." Bree stated to Ron.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

**A/N: I know that this is a crappy, short, uneventful and uncreative chapter but I have a good reason. Friday, September 29th a junior in my school lost her fight against cancer. Then Tuesday, October 2nd my good freind Hannah's dad lost _his_ fight against liver cancer. Then later that night one of my best, best, best friends was hit by a car riding his bycicle, thrown 75 feet down the road, and put into a coma with both legs broken in several spots, both arms broken, broken and cracked ribs and fluid on his brain. He was in a coma from Tueday night though Friday, October 5th when his battle was also lost. So I'm not going to be updating too much until after Ian's funeral and I'm also helping his guardian's out with his 5 year old younger brother Dunkin and explaining where Ian went. Well anyways, review please. I might make a new chapter by the end of this week.**


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Haha, sorry for such a long wait, but this is gonna be a medium-long(ish) chapter this time, I promise! Ian's funeral was Friday. I really despise funerals. It just makes everything so final. :/**

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Bree, Ron, Fred and George overheard Parvati telling her friend Lavender Brown that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione right out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

As dinner started Bree got the feeling that someone was watching her. She turned around to see Draco trying, and failing miserably, to watch her without any notice. All bad feelings forgotten for the time-being Bree smiled and waved at the blonde Slytherin, causing him to blush and hastily look away after returning the wave. She was just helping herself to a third chicken leg when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban on crooked and look of pure terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, held onto the head table for support against the table, and gasped, "Troll! In the dungeons! Troll! . . . Thought you ought to know." Then he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Everyone was shocked into silence for a few moments from this announcement, and then there was a total uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects!" He shouted once the noise had almost died down. "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Suddenly Percy went from the almost brotherly figure Bree had gotten to know and changed into the Prefect he was supposed to be.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"I thought trolls were supposed to be really stupid. How could one get in if that were true?" Bree asked Ron in a hushed voice, as to not alarm Percy of their conversation, as they climbed the stairs.

"They are supposed to be really stupid! I don't know how it could have gotten in though," Ron said indignantly. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween prank."

They passed many different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they pushed their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, Bree suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought! What about Hermione?!" She shouted into his ear, gripping his arm tightly.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll!"

Ron bit his lip. And Bree's face fell. She had been so sure that Ron would at least help her get Hermione to the Gryffindor tower. Apparently she had been wrong about her best friend.

"Oh, all right!" He snapped finally. "But Percy'd better not see us."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps and heavy breathing behind them.

Bree turned on her heel, whipping her wand out trying to think of a spell that would help her if it was someone planning on attacking them.

"Wait! Where are you going, Bree? You're going to get into trouble if you don't get up to your dormitories!" Gasped a winded Draco.

"Draco?! I thought that the Slytherin dormitories were in the dungeons." Bree replied when it looked like Draco had caught his breath.

He blushed a bit and then said shyly, "Well, yes. You're right, they are. I just . . . I just wanted to make sure you got up to your dormitory okay."

Before Bree had a chance to reply Ron held up his and hissed, "Can you two smell something?"

Bree and Draco both sniffed the air around them and a foul stench reached their nostrils. Bree though that it smelled like a strange mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it . . . a low grunting, and the shuffling steps of gargantuan feet. Ron gasped and pointed at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. The three of them shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Over ten feet tall, with skin with dull, gray skin. It's great, lumpy body like a rocky hill with its small baldhead perched on top like a little round rock. It had short legs thick as large tree trunks with flat, spiky feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. The beast was holding a huge wooden club, which it dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It wiggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The key is in the lock." Bree muttered to Draco and Ron. "We could lock it in and go get the teachers."

"Good idea," Ron agreed nervously.

They edged toward the open door; mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Bree managed to grab the key, slam the door shut, and lock it.

She jumped up, punching the air and shouted, "Yes!" While Draco and Ron gave her huge smiles and the thumbs up signal.

Pleased with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made Bree's heart nearly stop. It was a high-pitched, petrified scream, and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no!" Ron gasped, suddenly looking as pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Bree gasped.

"Hermione!" They shouted in unison.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, their finger fumbling in panic, Draco still looking confused, but following Bree none-the-less. Finally Bree pulled the door open and the two Gryffindors and one Slytherin quickly hurried inside.

Bree looked desperately around the room and saw Hermione Granger shrinking against the wall opposite to them, looking like she was about to pass out. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Get it away from her!" Bree yelled desperately to boys, and, seizing a tap, she chucked it as hard as she could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet in front of Hermione. It staggered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean, black little eyes saw Bree. It hesitated, and then made for her instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy! Idiot!" Yelled Ron from the other side of the bathroom, throwing a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly face toward Ron instead, giving Bree time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Draco yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll crazy. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Suddenly, without thinking about the consequences of her actions, Bree took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Bree hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a wand up its nose, and Bree's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped, going straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Bree clinging on for dear life. Any second, the troll was going to rip her off or give her a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand, not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over . . . and dropped, with a sickening, booming crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Bree got to shakily to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Draco was looking around at the damage uncomterably.

It was Hermione who spoke first. "Is it . . . is it . . . dead?"

I don't think so," Bree stated, "I think it's just been knocked out."

She bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh! Troll boogers."

She bent back down and wiped the goopy mess on the troll's pants.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four first years look up.

They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Professors Snape and Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching at his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was glaring with pursed lips at Ron, Bree and Draco. Bree had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Bree's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Bree glanced at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air and then Draco, who had moved himself closer to her side in a protective stance. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories, anyway?"

**A/N: Yeah, I got kind of sick of writing so I ended it on a not-so cliffy. We all know what happens next, but I bet you don't know what happens with Draco next. :O Guess it is a cliffy, then. And yes, I know that I "borrowed" words directly from the book. I'm sorry for that.Haha, well read and review, please and thank you.**


	17. Chapter 16

**So I'm not being a very good updater. I know, I know. And I could take a long time listing all the reasons that I haven't had time to update, or I could just let you read the damn fanfiction. I think you'd prefer the latter, so that's what I'll do. But first! I need to thank the reviewers that really keep me going. You all help me out, but these three people review the most frequently and are always helping with constructive critisum.**

**Big thanks to:**

**theheavyblade**

**Allen Pitt**

**and Aimed mischief. You three really help a lot! Now onto the chapter!**

_"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Bree glanced at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air and then Draco, who had moved himself closer to her side in a protective stance. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories, anyway?"_

Snape swiftly gave a peircing look Bree and she immediately got the strange sensation of someone trying to break into her inner-most thoughts. She looked back at him curiously, wondering if the Professor could be causing her to have this sensation. When Snape broke eye contact with her Bree glanced over to Ron, and immediately wished that he would put his wand down already.

Suddenly a small voice came from the shadows of the restroom.

"Please, Professor . . . they were looking for me." It was Hermione, who had finally managed to get off the floor and onto her feet.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione stepped foward and continued. "I went looking for the troll because I . . . I thought I could handle it on my own. I've read so many books about them, so I thought it would be okay." Bree shared a glance with Draco and then Ron, who had dropped his wand with a clatter after hearing this news. Hermione Granger, telling an out-right lie. And to a teacher, none the less. Hermione ignored this small exchange, as did the three Professors, thankfully. "If Bree, Draco and Ron hadn't found me, I'd probably be dead. Bree stuck her wand up it's nose while Draco and Ron distracted it, then Ron knocked it out with it's club. They didn't have enough to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when the three of them arrived.

Bree, Draco and Ron tried to look like this story wasn't new news to them.

Professor McGonagall looked taken aback for a few moments, then composed herself. "Well . . . in that case . . ." The Professor began, staring at the four of them with an undescribable expression on her face, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl! How could you even begin to think of tackling a fully grown mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head in shame. Bree was apalled. Hermione was the last person to do something that's against the rules, yet here she was, pretending she had, to get the three of them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had suddenly started skipping around Hogwarts, passing out everyones favorite sweets and throwing rose petals.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken off Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement." Said Professor McGonagall. "I am very disappointed in you. If you aren't physically harmed in any way at all, you'd better get off to the Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast up in their houses."

Hermione left.

After a few moments the transfiguration Professor turned to the Bree, Ron and Draco and took a deep, calming breath. "As for the three of you. . . . Well, not many first years could have taken on a fully grown mountain troll like that, and live to tell the tale. You will each win five points for your houses, simply for sheer, dumb luck. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You all may go."

At this point, Snape cleared his throut and stepped foward. "Excuse me, Minerva, but I'd like to have a quick word with Draco before he leaves."

"Well, yes, Severus. He is in your house after all. Well, Bree and Ron, the two of you may go, but Draco, you are to stay behind and have a word with Professor Snape."

They hurried out of the chamber. Bree glanced back and gave Draco an apologetic plea with her eyes that he seemed to get, since he nodded right before the door swung shut. The two Gryffindors didn't speak again until they had climbed two floors up. It was a huge releif to be away from the stench of the troll, quite apart from everything else.

Finally, Ron spoke. "We should have gotten more then ten points for Gryffindor."

"Five, actually. You're forgetting that she took off five points for Hermione."

Ron sighed. "Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her life and all. Guess what the sorting hat said is true. Gryffindors really are brave."

The last statement annoyed Bree a lot. Draco helped too, and he's a Slytherin. "Ron, what about Draco?"

"What about him?"

"Well, Ronald, Draco just so happens to be a brave Slytherin."

"Right, well . . . sorry." Ron apologized uncomterably.

Bree felt guilty for her small outburst towards her first friend and apologized with a squeeze to Ron's hand. He smiled softly as she did so, so she figured that all was forgiven.

Before they knew it they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout." They said in unison and entered to hole as the portrait swung foward.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

From that moment on, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy became their friends. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

**Hope you liked the chapter! Let me know your honest opinion of it. Constructive criticism is my best-friend. And reviews are my love. Ha, yeah. Please review!**


	18. Chapter 17

**I'm in an amazingly creative mood today. I made new layouts and graphics on my myspace layout site, then my boyfriend came over and we re-decorated my bedroom just for the heck of it, and now that he's gone I got bored and was like, "Hmmm . . . I think I should write another chapter on my fanfiction." So here we are, reading my ramblings of why I wrote this chapter, while you could be reading the actual chapter itself. So stop reading this and read the rest of the chapter, you silly gooses!**

As the three Gryffindors entered the chilly month of November they tried to talk more and more to their Slytherin friend. Well, acquaintance. Draco was torn. Torn between his love for Bree, and "friendship" with her friends, and his Slytherin lifestyle. He wouldn't put it past some of his house-mates to murder him just for speaking a single word to the three Gryffindors he had fought a troll with. Of course, he wasn't boasting about that he had fought the troll with Ron, Bree and Hermione, but rather pretending that he had a lot more then he did to do with the whole situation. Bree understood why he was doing this, though Ron and Hermione were having a harder time understanding Draco the way Bree could, they tried just for the sake of her sanity. 

Bree glanced out the window between her and Hermione's beds in the morning, to see the icy gray, lake-like mountains staring back at her. She could see Hagrid defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in his long moleskin overcoat, warm rabbit fur gloves, and his enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Bree would be playing in her very first match after long weeks of training. The match was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had actually seen Bree play because Oliver had decided that, as the Gryffindor Team's secret weapon, Bree should be kept, well, secret. But the news that she was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Bree couldn't decide which she liked worse, people telling her she'd be brilliant, or people telling her they'd be running around the field underneath her holding a mattress in case she falls.

Bree tore her eyes from the window and looked at the sleeping form of her newest friend. It was really lucky that Bree had Hermione as a friend now. She didn't know how she would have managed to have gotten through all her homework without the brilliant girl, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practices Oliver was making them do. Hermione had also lent her a book called Quidditch Through the Ages, which was turning out to be a very interesting and informative book to read.

By reading the book, Bree had learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul, and that all seven hundred of them had happened during a Quidditch World Cup match in 1473. She had learned that Seekers were usually the smallest and fasted players, and that the most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them. And lastly she had learned that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking the rules ever since Bree, Ron and Draco had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer, too.

After Ron and Hermione had both woken up Friday morning, the morning before Bree's first Quidditch match the three of them went out in the freezing courtyard during break, and Hermione had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a small jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Bree noticed at once that he was limping. The three Gryffindors moved closer together to block the for from view, as they were sure that it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately for them, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over to them. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell someone off.

"What's that you've got there, Lil . . . err, Breanna?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Bree showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape snarled menacingly. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made up that rule," Bree muttered angrily as Snape limped away, her temper flaring. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

Hermione gave Bree an exasperated look that clearly screamed, 'Notice more stuff, won't you?'

"What is it, Hermione?" Bree questioned.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Am I the only one who notices things? You shouldn't have missed Snape almost calling you Lily."

"Lily who?" Bree asked.

"Lily! Lily, your mother! Lily Potter. Yeah, that Lily." Hermione almost shouted.

"Oh . . . he must have just made a slight mistake."

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Bree, Ron and Hermione were sitting in their favorite squishy, red armchairs by the fireplace to keep warm. Hermione was checking Bree and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would nicer let them copy, asking how they would ever learn for themselves, but by asking her to read through all their homework, they got to the right answers anyway.

Bree felt restless. She wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take her mind off her nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Snape? Standing up, she informed Ron and Hermione that she was going to go ask Snape if she could have it back.

"Better you then me," they said in unison, but Bree had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

She made her way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer from the other side. She knocked again. Still nothing.

Perhaps, she thought, Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. She pushed the door ajar and peeked inside. Suddenly, a horrible scene met her eyes. Snape and Filtch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes abover his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Bree knew that Snape must be talking about the three-headed dog on the third floor, and immediately tried to shut the door quietly, but . . .

"BREANNA!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Bree gulped.

"I . . . I was just wondering if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Bree left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor, and sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Bree joined him and Hermione. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Bree told them what she'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we thought we saw him . . . he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick, which I wouldn't bet unless I was absolutely positive, that he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide. "No! He wouldn't!" She exclaimed. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Bree on this one. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But the question is, what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Bree went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question Ron had asked. Parvati was quietly talking in her sleep, and next to her, Lavender was snoring slightly, but Bree couldn't sleep. She tried to empty her mind . . . she needed to sleep. She didn't just need to, she had to. She had her first Quidditch match in a few hours . . . but the expression on Snape's face when Bree had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

**Alright! So that's two chapters in two days! That's a new record for this school year so far! Please, please, please review. If I get to 80 reviews, or (more preferably) over 80 reviews but tomorrow, I'll write a third consecutive chapter tomorrow! So go review, REVIEW, REVIEW!!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Man, I don't know about you guys but I had a totally hectic Thanksgiving vacation. My Grandmother un-invited me to Thanksgiving dinner at her house because I told her some stuff. So I ended up going to Thanksgiving dinner at my neighbor's house, who just happen to be the grandparents of my ex-boyfriend. Talk about awkward. Anyways, now that I'm done with my little rant-ish typing here's the chapter!**

The next morning came bright and much too early and much to chilly. The delicious smells of breakfast wafted throughout the Great Hall while everyone cheerfully discussed the upcoming Quidditch match.

Hermione prodded Bree in the side. "What?"

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"Just a slice of toast," Hermione persisted.

Bree just shook her head silently. She felt terrible. In less then an hour she would be walking onto the Quidditch pitch for her first match ever.

"Bree, you need to eat something. You need your strength," Seamus said. "Seekers are always the ones who get beat-up the worst by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus. You've really helped boost my confidence," Bree replied sarcastically, watching Seamus pile ketchup and sausages onto her plate.

By eleven o'clock it seemed as if the entire school filled the stands around the pitch. Many of the students carried binoculars because even though the stands were raised high in the air it could still be difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus and Dean up in the top row. As a surprise for Bree, they had painted a gigantic banner on one of the many sets of sheets Scabbers had ruined. It read "Breanna for President," and Dean, who was an excellent artist had done a huge Gryffindor lion underneath. To add her own little piece to the banner, Hermione had performed one of her nifty little charms she so frequently learned that made the paint flash different colors. Draco would have loved to be one of the people cheering the object of his affection on with his new Gryffindor friends, but he also didn't want to be ridiculed by his fellow housemates, whom he had to sleep in the same dorm with every night. Someday there would come a time when the young Slytherin would have to choose which team he was cheering for, for lack of a better way of putting it, but today was not that day.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Bree and the rest of the team were changing into their bright scarlet robes. Bree had found out from Draco that Slytherin would be playing in green robes.

Oliver cleared his throat for silence. "Okay, men," he started.

"And women," Bree and the Chaser Angelina Johnson said in unison.

"And women," Oliver agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," Fred continued.

"The one we've all been waiting for," George said into Bree's ear, making her jump. She hadn't realized he was standing so close.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Bree, "we were on the team last year, too."

"Oh shut up, you two," said Oliver. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win this. I just know it." He glared around at them as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

George slipped his hand into Bree's and gave it a quick squeeze. "You'll do great, I just know it." She smiled up at him and watched as he took his place by his brother's side. She hoped her knees wouldn't give way as she walked out onto the field to loud cheers. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, broomstick in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice, clean game. All of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Bree noticed that she seemed to be glancing an awful lot towards the sixth year Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint. Bree thought that Marcus looked as if he had some trolls blood in him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the fluttering Gryffindor banner high above. The sight of it made her heart swell with pride and gratitude for such wonderful, supportive friends. She felt braver knowing that they were out there rooting for her to win.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Bree gracefully climbed onto her Numbus two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle and fifteen brooms rose high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken up immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor team, what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive as well . . ."

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall yelled.

"Sorry, Professor."

Fred and George's friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really pelting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good friend of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve, back to Johnson and . . . no, the Slytherin's have taken the Quaffle and off he goes. Marcus Flint flying like and eagle up there, he's going to soc - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle. That's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and . . . OUCH! That must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger. Quaffle taken by Slytherins, that's Adrian Pucey shooting off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger. Sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which," Bree giggled at the last comment, and continued her frantic search for the Snitch. "Nice play by the Gryffindor Beater anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, clear field ahead and off she goes. She's really flying, dodges a speeding Bludger, the goal posts are ahead! Come on, now, Angelina! Keeper Bletchley dives and . . . misses! GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Has anything happened with Bree yet?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Nope," said Ron. "She hasn't had much to do yet."

"But she's kept out of trouble. That's something," Hermione commented, raising her binoculars back to her eyes to peer skyward at the little speck that was Bree.

High above the entire game, Bree was gliding around, squinting about for the slightest sign of the Snitch. This was part of the plan Oliver and her had come up with. Keep out of the way until she catches sight of the Snitch. Don't get attacked before she had to be.

When Angelina had scored, Bree had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off some of her good feelings. Now she was back to staring around for the Snitch.

Once she caught sight of a flash of gold, but it had turned out to be a reflection from one of the twins' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting her way, more like a cannonball than anything else she could think of, but Bree dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Bree? George would be devastated if something happened to you!" He had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint. Bree smiled even wider then she already had been.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Katie Bell, and speeds toward the . . . wait a moment! Was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Bree saw it. In a huge rush of excitement she dived downward, loosing her stomach, after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch. All the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Bree was faster than Higgs, she could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead, she put on an extra spurt of speed and . . . WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below. Marcus Flint had blocked Bree on purpose, and her broom spun off course, she was holding on, with one hand on the handle, for dear life.

**Sorry for just kind of ending it, but I got sick of writing, plus it's not like you're gonna be in suspense really, you know what happens. Or maybe you'll be in suspense anyways, I don't really know. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers. Keep them coming!**

**Here's a little deal type thing:**

**0 - 5 Reviews: Update on Sunday.**

**6 - 10 Reviews: Update on Saturday.**

**11 - 15 Reviews: Update on Friday.**

**16 - 20 Reviews: Update tomorrow!**

**Aha, that's lame of me, I know. But guess what? I don't care. I have the right to be lame and I like to exercise that right. Review please!**


	20. Chapter 19

**I'm such a rebel. Against my own "rule" too. Ha, I didn't want to wait to post this chapter because I had a sudden burst of inspiration to write while watching the ABC family channel's 25 days of Christmas thing. Wow, this yea is just flying by for me, I mean really, it's almost 2008! Well anyways, here's the chapter early! Enjoy!**

The whole crowd gasped as Bree clung to her broom in mid-air, trying to get back upon it.

The Gryffindor stands screamed for a foul while Madam Hooch furiously scolded Marcus and then ordered a free shot at the Slytherin goal posts for Gryffindor. While the Gryffindor Chasers got ready to make their shot Bree clambered back onto her broom and waved at George, who was looking over at her in concern, to tell him that she was fine. She looked around her, but in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Down below in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card! Red Card!"

"What in the world are you talking about, Dean?" Ron asked in exasperation.

"Red card!" Dean yelled furiously. "In soccer you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"Dean, this isn't soccer," Ron reminded him with a small smile.

Hagrid, who had shown up to sit with the Gryffindors while Marcus hit Bree, was on Dean's side.

"They oughtta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Bree outta the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it quite difficult not to be biased in his commentary after that move. "So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating . . ."

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul . . ."

"Jordan, I'm warning you . . ."

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the new, beautiful Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty goes to Gryffindor team. The Quaffle is taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble. And we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession."

As Bree dodged another Bludger sent toward her by one of the Slytherin Beaters, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, terrifying jerk. For a second she thought she was going to fall. She gripped the broom tightly with both her hands and knees. She'd never felt the sleek broom do anything like that. It happened again. It was as though her beloved broom was trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Bree tried to pull back to the Gryffindor goal posts. She had half a mind to ask Oliver to call a time-out. Then she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn, or direct it at all. It was zig-zagging though the air, every now and then making violent jerking movements that almost unseated her again.

Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession, Flint with the Quaffle, he passes Spinnet, passes Bell too. Ouch! Hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose . . . only joking, Professor! Slytherin's score . . . A no . . ."

The green sea of Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Bree's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying her slowly higher and higher above the game, jerking and twitching as it went along.

"Blimey, I dunno what Bree thinks she's doin'," Hagrid mumbled as he stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know any better, I'd say she'd los' control of her broom. . . . But she can' have . . ."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Bree all over the stands. Her broom had started to roll around and around, with her only just managing to hold on. The the whole crowd gasped up at her. For the second time this game Bree was hanging onto her broom's handle with only one hand.

"Did something happen to her broom when Flint blocked her?" Seamus whispered, sounding worried.

"Can' have," Hagrid replied, his voice shaking. "Can' nothin' interfere with a broomstick 'cept powerful Dark magic. No kid could do tha' to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words Hermione seized her binoculars and stated looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" Ron moaned, gray-faced.

"I know it," Hermione gasped, "Snape, look!"

Ron grabbed the binoculars from her. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Bree and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something . . . jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

"What should we do?" Came a voice from under-foot. Hermione and Ron looked down. It was Draco, looking up at them, worry lines etched into his young face. "Well?"

"Leave it to me, Draco." Came Hermione's reply.

"I'm helping."

"Fine."

Before Ron could say anything, Hermione and Draco had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Bree. Her broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for her to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified as Fred and George tired to pull Bree safely onto one of their brooms, but their efforts were no good. Every time they got near her, the broom would jump higher still. They finally dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her, should she fall.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

"Come on, you two," Ron muttered desperately.

Hermione and Draco had fought their way across the stands to where Snape stood, and were now racing along the row behind him. They didn't even stop to say sorry as Hermione knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, they crouched down, drew their wands together, and whispered the charm for the bright blue fire, which sparked from their wands and onto the hem on Snape's robes.

It took almost thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told the two first years that they had done their job. Scooping the fore off him, into a little jar in Hermione's pocket, they scrambled back along the row. Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Bree was suddenly able to clamber back onto her broom a second time this game.

"Neville, you can look now!" Ron exclaimed, as Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's enormous jacket for the past five minutes.

Bree was speeding in a swift dive toward the ground when the crown say her suddenly clap her hand to her mouth, as if she was about to be sick. She hit the ground on all fours, coughed, and something gold fell into her hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" She shouted to the crowd, waving the small golden ball above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"She didn't catch it! She nearly swallowed the thing!" Marcus Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference. Bree hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results of the match. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty!

**Right, well hope you enjoyed that. Review, review, review please! I may just post another chapter tomorrow if I get enough reviews, since I already have the next two typed up and ready to go. I'm gonna be totally lame again and do my little "deal" thing I didn't go with this time.**

**0 - 5 Reviews: Post the next chapter on Monday.**

**6 - 10 Reviews: Post the next chapter on Sunday.**

**11 - 15 Reviews: Post the next chapter tomorrow!**

**So c'mon you guys! Review!**


	21. Chapter 20

**Yeah, I told you I was in the insatiable mood to write. Hope you're enjoying the creative mood I'm in. Uhh, it's probably gonna be pretty short because I don't have a lot of time to write tonight, but I wanted to get another chapter out because, well I don't know why, I just did. Enjoy!**

While Marcus Flint was still screaming about Bree catching the Snitch, Hagrid, Hermione, Ron and Draco were walking with her towards Hagrid's Hut, which Draco had never been to before. When they entered the cabin, Bree was knocked over by an over-ecstatic, drooling Fang while Hagrid went to the stove to make some nice, strong tea.

"It was all Snape, Bree," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him trying to jinx your broom. He was standing there, muttering, and he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Tha's rubbish!" Hagrid exclaimed almost angrily, as he hadn't heard a word of the conversation that had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like tha'?"

Bree, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, while Draco tried to stay out of the conversation, already feeling badly about rebelling against his own house, even if it was to help Bree. All four of the were wondering what to tell Hagrid. Finally Bree decided to tell Hagrid what her theory was.

"I think I've found out something about him," she began. "I think that he tried to get past that great, three-headed dog on Halloween, and got bitten by it. The four of us think he might have been trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Draco looked around at Bree with a bewildered look on his face. She shrugged at him, feeling badly about telling Hagrid that Draco distrusted the head of Slytherin house, but Hagrid needed to trust Draco as well as the three Gryffindors in Bree's opinion.

However, Hagrid hadn't appeared to have heard the last part of Bree's statement, since as soon as she had mentioned the three-headed dog he had dropped the tea kettle with a grand clatter.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" He demanded.

"Fluffy?" Bree repeated in bewilderment.

Hermione's face closely resembled Bree's own as she exclaimed, "That thing has a name!"

"Well of course he's got a name. He's mine. Bought 'im off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the . . ."

"Yes?" Bree urged.

"No, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid said gruffly. "Tha's top secret, that is."

"But Snape is trying to steal it!"

"Rubbish!" Hagrid exclaimed loudly. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Well if that's true, then why did he just try to kill Bree?" Hermione cried out. Bree was surprised by this statement. The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape. "Hagrid, I know a jinx when I see one. I've read all about them! You have got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all! I saw him!"

"An' I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly. "I don' know why Bree's broom acted like tha', but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now yeh listen teh me. The four of yeh!" When he added this part, Draco jumped and swung his head around to look at Hagrid, listening intently. "Yer meddlin' in things that ought not teh be meddled in. It's dangerous. You forget tha' dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', tha's strictly between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel . . ."

"Aha!" Bree exclaimed in triumph. "So there's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid still looked furious with himself when the four first years left. But they felt ecstatic with themselves, now they had something to go on.

**Alright, so how was it? Not very much happened, and it was super short, I know. But I have something amazing happening within the next two to three chapters. Review, review, review, please!**

**0 - 5 Reviews: Update Wednesday!**

**6 - 10 Reviews: Update Tuesday!**

**11 - 15 Reviews: Update Monday!**

**Aha, yeah. I'm still carrying that out, even though I pretty much ignore it. Though I think I did update according to it this time. Ahh well, who's keeping track, right? Anyways, hit that pretty button and write something!**


	22. Chapter 21

**Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all got everything you wanted. And to those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays! This is my gift to you all. I was supposed to update this a really long time ago but I didn't really have enough time. But yeah, ten reviews on the last chapter! Thanks to all of you reviewers out there! But there are 38 people alerted to my story, but I don't get a whole lot of reviews, though finally getting over 100 reviews made me smile. Let's keep it going! More reviews equals more chapters quicker.**

Walking back to the castle with Ron, Hermione and Draco, Bree's mind was buzzing with this new development. Nicholas Flamel . . . That name sounded familiar, she just couldn't quite place exactly where she had heard it.

When Bree tuned back into her three friends, Draco was saying that he had to get back to the Slytherin commonroom before he was missed for too long. He bade the three Gryffindors good-night and walked off towards the castle.

"Bree, what do you think we should do now? Do you want to go back to the commonroom, or what?" Hermione asked.

"You two go up, I need a bit of time by myself."

Ron and Hermione nodded and walked off, leaving Bree to her mindless wanderings.

As she was walking around the far side of the lake she thought she heard a rustling in the bushes behind her, but when she turned around there was no one there.

Shrugging it off, she murmered to herself, "It's nothing, just the wind."

Suddenly the soft, husky voice of none other then George Weasley came from behind her. "Just the wind, eh? Well I suppose I'll just be going then."

Bree jumped, gasping slightly in surprise, and spun around on the spot to come face to face with the red haired boy. She put both her hands on George's chest to steady herself. He chuckled softly into her hair and tilted her chin up so she was staring directly into his endlessly hypnotysing eyes.

He smiled and whispered, "What would you do if I asked you to kiss me?"

Bree giggled slightly and whispered back, "Well George, I think I would tell you to stop asking and learn how to take a risk and just take what you want."

He gazed intensely into her own hazel eyes and whispered, "Maybe I should do just that."

As Bree opened her mouth to reply, George leaned down and crushed his lips to her own, putting his hands on the small of her back as she wrapped her own arms around his lean body.

It seemed as if they stood there in the moonlight for hours just kissing and holding each other tightly. As the sun started rising above the horizon George shook Bree from the place between being asleep and being awake.

"C'mon, Bree. We've got to get back to the commonroom and get some sleep."

She mumbled groggily and rolled over on his chest. George smiled and chuckled quietly, easily lifting the sleeping Bree into his arms to carry her back to the commonroom.

**Hokay! The end . . . of this chapter anyways. Sorry it was so short, but I told you something amazing would happen. Haha, I dunno, I was just in a really romantic mood tonight thanks to my boyfriend. (He walked half-way across town to come and give me this totally gorgeous bracelet, I mean, how romantic is that?) Anyways please review and lemme know if you like it or not, please!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Sorry for the delay. Thanks for the reviews. All that good stuff. Read the chapter. :)**

Christmas was soon. As December progressed it got colder and colder. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of white, fluffy snow. The lake had frozen over solid. Fred and George were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they would follow Professor Quirrell around, bounching off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to get through the stormy skies to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

Absolutely no one could wait for the holidays to start. Professors included. Well all Professors except Professor Snape, perhaps. What the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall both had roaring fires, the drafty corridors became icy, and cold winds rattled the windows in the classrooms.

Worst of all were Potions down in the dungeous, where their breath rose in a mist in front of them and they kept as close as possible to their cauldrons.

"I feel so sorry," Draco started one day in Potions, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled at this.

Bree looked over at him with a hurt expression on her face and retorted, "Well you know, Draco, sometimes the people who're staying at Hogwarts for Christmas have other options, but just want to spend the holidays with friends. Like me, for example."

That seemed to shut him up for the rest of class. Thankfully.

It was true, that Bree wouldn't be going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying forthe holidays, and Bree had signed up almost at once. She didn't feel sorry for herself at all, though. This would probably be the best Christmas she'd ever had. Ron and all the other Weasley brothers were staying, too, since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a larger fir tree blocking the corridor ahead, with two enormous feet sticking out at the bottoms, and a loud puffing sounds told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hello, Hagrid. Want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah. I'm all right, thanks though, Ron."

"Move, please!" Came Draco's voice from behind the three Gryffindors and Hagrid.

As they went to move, Ron tripped foward and grabbed a hold of the front of Draco's robes, just as Professor Snape was coming up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron quickly let go of Draco's robes.

"Professor, Ron tripped an' grabbed at Draco's robes for help!" Hagrid exclaimed, pushing his great hairy head through the branches of the great tree.

"Somehow, Hagrid. I don't believe you. Fighting is against Hogwarts rules," said the Professor silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along. All of you."

Draco, Hermione and Ron began fowards while Bree stayed right where she was. Snape noticed this.

"I said, move along, Miss Potter."

"No! You can't take away five points from Gryffindor because Ron tripped! It's not right!"

"Move along, Miss Potter!"

"NO!"

"See me in my office tonight, then. Six o'clock sharp. Don't be late."

"Fine." Bree retorted, then stalked off in the opposite direction.

"Come on, cheer up. It's nearly Christmas, yeh know." Hagrid said. "Tell yeh what. Come with me an' see the Great Hall. Looks a treat."

Bree smiled and followed Hagrid and his tree to the Great Hall, closely followed by her three friends. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid. The last tree. Put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Holly and Mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less then twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days yeh got left 'til yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," Hermione replied. "And that reminds me. Bree, Ron, Draco, we've got half an hour before lunch. We should be in the library."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his want and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" Hagrid asked, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Bree told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here, I've told yeh. Drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all." Hermione said.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Bree added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere. Just give us a hint. I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm not sayin' nothin'." Hagrid said flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left a disgruntled looking Hagrid and hurried off to the library.

**Alright, how was it? Kind of short but oh well. I just got back from a protest and felt creative. Hope you liked it. Review, please!**


	24. Chapter 23

**Hello. Happy Heart Day, everyone. I hope you all got something special today, and that it was extra joyous. You know what would make my day today? A lot of lovely reviews from lovers of this story. Haha, thanks. Now, chapter.**

As six o'clock neared Draco prodded Bree in the side.

"Bree," he whispered.

Bree opened her eyes groggily. "Whatizit?"

Draco laughed slightly, "Well since I don't have the slightest clue as to what you just said, I'll just let you know that it's almost six o'clock now."

"Oh Merlin! I've got to get going!" Bree shot up in her seat, causing a precariously tottering pile of books to topple over onto the floor.

As she bent to pick them up, Ron stopped her. "No, just go. You don't want to be late for detention with Snape, do you?"

"Right. Thanks, Ron! Guys, I'm sorry I fell asleep on you all. I was just . . ."

"Breanna! Go. Now." Hermione ordered, pointing towards the entrance.

"Right. Well, bye." Bree replied in a fluster while practically running through the library doors, earning a glare and quite a few tuttering from Madame Pince.

When Bree finally arrived in the dungeons, it was precisely six o'five in the afternoon. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door to Professor Snape's office. "Professor, I'm so, so, sorry I'm late, I was studying in the . . ."

Snape cut her off there by clearing his throat loudly, "Breanna, I am not in the mood for the petty excuses of a young first year adolescent. Though I would like to know one thing."

"Yes, Professor?"

"Tell me . . . exactly how much do you know about your mother?"

Bree was taken aback by this question, and her face must have shown it clearly, since the Professor had to repeat himself several times before she could get over the shock of being asked that by a teacher that seemed to hate her. Or, at least her seemed to hate her when he looked into her eyes.

"Breanna Potter. Are you going to answer my question, or would you prefer a true detention for tonight?"

"No, no. I'll answer," Bree replied, still flabberghasted. "Well you see, I've only ever known what my Aunt and Uncle Dursley have told me about my parents. I know even less about my father then I do my mother. I am aware that my mom's name was Lily Evans, but when she married my dad, James, her last name became Potter, like mine. I know that she looked just like me, except with green eyes instead of brown ones, which I apparently inherited from my dad. According to the Dursley's, my parents were freaks, just like I am. So I'm assuming that they were both magical. I know that they both attended school here and that my dad was a brilliant Quidditch player, just as I am now, I suppose. But so far, that's all I know."

Snape sighed slightly in what seemed to be annoyance, and then he suddenly sprang up from his chair, walked across the room and threw a glass jar full of what must have been potions ingredients at the wall, where it smashed. He then strode over to it, repaired the jar of stuff, and placed it back on the shelf from which it had origionally come. Snape then strode back to the other side of the desk and sat down in exasperation.

"Professor?" Bree asked tentatively.

"Yes, Breanna?"

"Is something wrong? Should I go now?"

Snape sighed irritably, "No. You shouldn't go. And yes, something is wrong. Breanna, are you sure you've never heard stories of your mother . . . or even your father?"

"I'm quite sure, Professor."

"Well, Breanna, sit back and listen to a story . . ."

**Oh-ho-ho. Cliff hanger. I'm writing the next chapter as a flash-back story for Bree from Snape's point of view. Well, I hope you all liked it. I'll update really soon. Reviews, please! Last chapter's reviews were pitiful.**


	25. Chapter 24

**Alright! Well I was having some troubles thinking of what I should write for Snape's story, and finally I had an idea . . . with much appreciation going out to;**

**a.little.help.from.my.friends**

**Without her help I wouldn't have been able to think of anything splendid for this chapter. Note: This is a memory of Snape's. He's using a Pensieve to show it to Bree.**

With a flourish of his wand, Snape produced a large stone basin full of mysterious swirling pearly water.

"Professor," Bree began, but was abrubtly cut off by the Professor across from her. She sat back in her chair with a slight huff, but remained silent otherwise.

Finally, the Professor was finished with prodding the strange liquid with the tip of his wand.

"Now, Breanna. Stick your face into this basin. I'll be right in after you."

"But Professor. What about a story of my mother?" Bree inquired.

"This is much easier then telling a story to you. This way, you get to experience the story first-hand. It's better then any muggle story."

Bree nodded and leaned her face towards the basin's liquid, took a deep breath and plunged her face into the liquid. Instead of not being able to breathe, she felt herself being sucked into the basin before she could stop it.

When she landed she was at a small playground, standing next to a young greasy-haired boy in too-baggy clothes.

She held out a hand to the young boy. "Hello," she announced to the boy cheerily.

He ignored her completely, acting as if he hadn't heard her at all. He was looking past her to another red-haired little girl on the swings. Bree's breath caught in her throat. That girl looked like a younger Bree with green eyes.

"Yes, that's your mother," Snape said from behind Bree, causing her to start with surprise.

"She looks like me," Bree murmered while still watching breathlessly.

"Yes, you have her looks, but you were born with your . . ."

"Father's eyes."

"Yes. Your father's eyes." The Professor repeated in an almost pained voice.

Finally the young greasy haired boy whispered something to himself. "You can do this, Severus. You know she's a witch. I need to tell her. Maybe we could end up in the same Hogwarts house - maybe we can be friends for the rest of our lives. Maybe more." The young Professor Snape then came out from behind the small shrubbery.

The young Aunt Petunia looked over at him in plain disgust. "Lily, that thing you call a friend is here again. Tell him to go away forever, would you?"

At that remark, both the young and old Professors narrowed their eyes at Petunia. Before Severus could say anything in reply, however, Bree's mother intervened.

"Hello, Severus! How're you?"

The young Professor blushed deeply and scuffed his worn-shoes in the dirt. "Well, I sort of wanted to tell you something," then glancing towards Petunia he added, "alone."

Lily looked towards the angry Petunia, then back towards the embarressed Severus and nodded. "I'll be home by dinner time, 'Tuny."

Petunia just huffed loudly, turning her back on the two younger children and stalked across the playground to mope on the round-a-bout ride.

"So, Severus. What did you want to tell me?"

"Well . . . you won't believe me, probably."

"Try me, Sev," Lily encouraged with a small smile.

"Alright. You're a . . . a witch."

Lily's eyes widened with believing dis-belief. "Really?"

"Yes, really. And I'm a wizard. When we turn 11 we'll go to Hogwarts. It's a school for the magic."

"It sounds cool. Tell me more."

And with that, the young Severus began to tell Bree's mother all about Hogwarts and the magical world. Then the Professor yanked on Bree's elbow gently, and brought her out of the strange non-liquid liquid.

When they had both sat down once again Bree was speechless.

"Th - thank you, Professor."

"Oh it was just fine. Now, go back to your commonroom before it gets too late to be roaming the halls."

"Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Breanna," Snape nearly whispered back.

**Alright! So what'd you all think? I'm barely getting any reviews anymore. I won't update quickly without reviews, so click that pretty button and at least write that you liked, or dis-liked it, please and thank you.**


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